


The Greatest Power

by MuggleMomma



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-06
Updated: 2020-02-05
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:01:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 40
Words: 215,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21697369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MuggleMomma/pseuds/MuggleMomma
Summary: A sixth-year fic begun pre-HBP, this fic begins where Order of the Phoenix left off. As Harry lies in his bed in Privet Drive, guilt-ridden and devastated, Voldemort finds an "easy in" to the young wizard's mind. How will Harry withstand the attacks, and as his role in the war becomes clearer and more vital, will he rely on the strength of his friends as he seeks a way to vanquish the Dark Lord forever?
Relationships: Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Remus Lupin/Nymphadora Tonks
Comments: 14
Kudos: 70





	1. In the Night

"Potter!" snarled Vernon Dursley through the closed door to Harry's bedroom at Number Four, Privet Drive. "Boy! Get up!"

Harry did not need a wake-up call; though it was just after dawn, he had been up for hours. He was sitting, still in his oversized pajamas, watching the beginnings of the sunrise over the horizon of Little Whinging. Sleep had not come easily to him since his return to his aunt and uncle's house three days before; in fact, it had come hardly at all.

"Boy!" shouted Uncle Vernon again. Harry sighed wearily and crossed the small bedroom to open his door.

"Yes, Uncle Vernon?"

"Have you written your letter yet?"

Harry could not register what exactly his uncle was on about so early in the morning. He stared at his uncle uncomprehendingly. "My...letter?"

"Don't play stupid with me, boy. It is time for you to write to those freaky friends of yours so they don't come barging into my home!"

At this, Harry remembered the warning given to Vernon by the members of the Order at King's Cross Station. They had said if they did not hear from Harry for three days in a row, they would be coming to check on him. Uncle Vernon had been repulsed by the entire lot of them, and (although he would never admit it) intimidated by Mad-Eye Moody's threats. Harry knew that the last thing his Uncle wanted was for any of them to be seen by his "normal" neighbors on Privet Drive, and had been lectured all the way back from the train station on what exactly would happen to him if any of the "freaks" came to call.

"No, Uncle Vernon. I haven't written them yet."

Vernon reached into the pocket of his plaid bathrobe and thrust a black ink pen and a pad of Grunnings memo notes into Harry's hand. "Get to it, boy. I want to read that letter before you send it, and mind you, do not even think of implying to them that we have been anything less than satisfactory. Keep in mind that we are the ones who have kept you your entire life, and you should be grateful."

Harry stared at the memo pad in his hands, suppressing a mirthless chuckle at the thought of Mr. Weasley's amazement at the laser-printed Grunnings logo on the top of each small sheet. "Yes, Uncle Vernon."

"I have to get ready for work. I want that letter finished by the time you come down to breakfast, and you had better hope it is written to my satisfaction." With a final, purple-faced glare at his nephew, Vernon turned away and stalked back down the hall to his bedroom.

Harry sat down at the small desk in front of his window, set the notepad aside, and pulled a roll of parchment and a quill from the top drawer. He thought for a moment before he began to write; for his own reasons he did not want any visitors from the wizarding world either.

> __
> 
> Dear Professor Moody, Professor Lupin, Tonks, and Mr. Weasley,
> 
> __
> 
> Things are fine so far, and the house has remained calm, which is good. As Hermione and Ron will know, we were set quite a lot of homework for the holidays and I have started work on it.
> 
>  __
> 
> Please tell Hermione and all of the Weasleys I said hello, and I hope their holiday has started off well.
> 
> __
> 
> Sincerely,
> 
> __
> 
> Harry
> 
> __

Harry read carefully over the short letter several times. Finally convinced that there was nothing in it that would alarm anyone, he set it aside on his desk, got his clothes and a towel, and headed for the shower. Another day had begun.

Uncle Vernon read Harry's note as he sipped his morning coffee, and then handed it to Aunt Petunia, who immediately pursed her lips and held it gingerly, as if the very parchment Harry had written on could be contagious. Harry did not look at either one of them. Instead, he concentrated on rearranging the small portion of scrambled eggs on his plate so that it would look as though he had eaten some, not that any of the Dursleys would notice or care.

"Fine. Go upstairs immediately and give this letter to that bird to deliver, and she had better be fast about it, too." Uncle Vernon stated, pushing the parchment back at Harry and disappearing behind his newspaper.

Grateful for the opportunity to leave the gleaming white kitchen, Harry took the parchment back up to his room. Waking Hedwig gently, he tied the note to her leg and asked her to take it to headquarters, where he knew that at least one person in the Order of the Phoenix would be there to receive it.

His duty done for the day, Harry lay on his back on this bed, staring at the small crack on the ceiling in his bedroom, trying desperately to keep his thoughts off of the Department of Mysteries and the devastating hole in his heart where Sirius had been. He focused on the beginning of the crack and began counting backwards from one thousand, moving his focus slightly along with each passing number. This was the only way he had found that he could stop his thoughts from spinning out of control and consuming him, the only way he had found to keep himself sane.

If Ron or Hermione could have seen Harry, they would have been quite alarmed. The truth about Harry's stay with the Dursleys was quite different than what he had implied in his letter. Yes, things were calm, but they were anything but "fine." Citing the episode with the dementors the previous summer, Uncle Vernon had confined Harry to his room, save only to take care of his hygienic needs and for meals, so that no one or nothing could find him. Petunia had told him that Harry was safe, and therefore so were the rest of them, as long as he was inside the house, so Harry was no longer allowed to leave. Period. Harry had only left his room on a few occasions since his arrival, the weight of his depression so complete that it often rendered him unable to move. He had no appetite, and in only three days he had lost enough weight for his baggy jeans to become even baggier. He rarely slept, and there were dark circles underneath his eyes. Anyone looking at Harry Potter would never have guessed that he was only fifteen years old. The despair in his green eyes made it apparent that he had been through more in his short life than most adults would ever have to go through. He was near his breaking point, and he knew it, but he could just not find it in himself to care.

* * *

Remus Lupin sat at the long table in the kitchen of Number 12, Grimmauld Place, carefully perusing the Daily Prophet for any sign of Voldemort's whereabouts. Not, he reflected, because the idiots who ran the paper would actually know where Voldemort was building his stronghold, but because one of Voldemort's greatest powers lay in the subtle and insidious way that he injected his poisonous presence into the world. Many of his machinations would be imperceptible to someone who did not know what they were looking for.

Hearing a soft tapping at the door, he crossed the room and opened it to find a snowy owl with a small roll or parchment tied to its leg. The owl floated gracefully down to land on the back of one of the kitchen chairs.

"Hello, Hedwig." Remus said softly, taking the letter from her and offering her a link of the sausage he had made that morning. "Are you taking good care of Harry?"

Hedwig hooted through her mouthful of sausage in what seemed to Remus to be a sad sort of way, then flew out the kitchen door towards the window through which she had entered the house.

After quickly reading Harry's note, Remus sighed heavily, his pale face registering even greater sadness. He knew Harry was not fine. How could he be?

Remus was possibly the one person in the world who could understand how profoundly Harry was feeling the loss of Sirius, and far from reassuring him, Harry's short, impersonal letter made him worry even more about the boy. If only they could bring him back here, among people who cared for him. But Dumbledore insisted that Harry's safety was his most important concern, and that Harry could not leave Privet Drive until after his sixteenth birthday. The kitchen door opened and Molly Weasley entered the kitchen in her flowered dressing gown.

"Morning, Molly," he greeted her. "How did you sleep?"

"Oh, fine, just fine, although I could hear Fred and George getting up to something in their room until late last night. I'm not sure if I dare ask them what they're on about this time." She turned to flash him a weary smile and noticed the small bit of parchment in his hands. "Remus, have you got a letter from Harry? Is he alright?"

Remus wordlessly handed her the note and her smile faded as she read it. "That poor child," she whispered. "He should not be alone at a time like this! Maybe if I talk to Dumbledore again..." She trailed off, knowing that talking to Dumbledore would not change Harry's present situation. "Now, Molly, Harry has said nothing to indicate that he is being mistreated."

Molly frowned. "Do you really think he would tell us? I'm going to send Arthur to check on him straightaway." She made for the kitchen door, her thoughts of a cup of tea forgotten.

"I don't think that would make things much better for Harry right now..." Catching the worried creases on Molly's forehead, he added, "I am sure he would tell us if they were mistreating him. I know he wants to be here with us as much as we want him here." "Have you written him, Remus?"

"Yes," Remus sighed. "I wrote him on his second day back. Aside from this, I have not heard from him."

"Ron and Ginny have both sent him owls, too. I'm sure Hermione has as well. No one has heard a word. Honestly, Remus, does he have to be there? Can't we keep him safe here, with us, where there are people to talk to, to care for him?"

"Dumbledore has insisted that Privet Drive is the only safe place for him right now, Molly. If nothing else, we have to trust him on that."

The expression on Molly Weasley's face indicated that she did not have so much faith in the Headmaster when it came to Harry's well-being. Even as she fumed over the injustice of Harry's situation, her eyes testified to her immense sadness and worry over the boy she considered one of her own.

* * *

At one in the morning on Privet Drive, the dark-haired boy in the smallest bedroom thrashed around on his bed, his threadbare sheets entangled around his body and soaked in cold sweat. "No, no!" He moaned. "No, it's not me, it's not..."

The ghostly figure of a 16-years-younger Sybill Trelawney gleamed on the surface of the Pensieve in Dumbledore's office... "and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives...the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies..."

_I have to kill him. I have to._

_"Yes, Harry. It's you. It's always been you." Sirius Black appeared beside the chair where Harry was sitting. "That's why I died. That's why your parents died. It's always been you."_

_"No! It's not me!" He looked at the pale face of his Godfather._

_"It's you, Harry, and more people are going to die because of it. I died because of it. I died because of you."_

_Harry watched, horrified, as a stone archway with a tattered veil appeared behind Sirius. Sirius doubled over as he had in the Department of Mysteries and slowly, gracefully fell through the veil. "It's you, Harry...it's you..."_

"NOOOOOOO!" Harry screamed as he sat bolt upright in bed. "Sirius!"


	2. Reflections

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the absence of his friends, Harry's despair weakens his defenses, leaving him vulnerable to attack even on Privet Drive.

Uncle Vernon burst into Harry's room with Aunt Petunia following closely behind. Both wore the heavy expressions of those who had been jolted out of a sound and dreamless sleep. Uncle Vernon violently slapped at the light switch until the room was flooded in brightness.

"What the devil is going on in here, boy? Have you any idea what time it is?" he shouted. "I will not have my family being woken up at all hours of the night!"

Harry did not reply. Still gripped in the terror of his nightmare, he only sat in his bed, his eyes staring blankly in front of him, shaking and sweating. Aunt Petunia noticed his state. For an instant, it seemed as though she was about to go to him, maybe even comfort him. Just in time, however, she got hold of herself and the disapproving scowl she reserved just for Harry set into her face. She crossed her arms over her chest and listened as Vernon continued to rant at their nephew.

"Some people in this household work for a living, Potter. If you want me to continue putting food on the table and clothes on your ungrateful body, you'd do well to let me get a good night's sleep. And your window is open! What did I tell you about that, boy! I don't want the neighbors to know one bit about your...unnaturalness. You're to keep that window closed, hear? And furthermore..."

Another door opened down the hall and Harry's cousin Dudley wandered sleepily into the fray. Although Harry's scream had not woken him, his father's shouting was loud enough to make the windows rattle. Even through the sleepy haze in his eyes, Dudley realized what was going on and grinned stupidly at Harry. Dudley loved to hear his father telling Harry off.

"I'm sorry, Uncle Vernon," said Harry quietly, trying to keep the tremors from his voice. He didn't have the strength or the will to fight with his uncle, and he wanted the Order to have no excuse to try to come to his aid. "It won't happen again."

"You are bloody well right it won't happen again, boy!" Uncle Vernon shouted, his face turning a darker purple as his temper rose. "I don't care what you have to do to stop that blasted screaming, but I won't be woken in the middle of the night again! Screaming like a bloody baby! Are all wiz-"

"Vernon!" Aunt Petunia hissed. "The window!"

Vernon stopped in the middle of his words. No one in the room could believe that he had almost said "wizard," a word as forbidden in the Dursley household as the nastiest swear word imaginable.

Without another word, Vernon strode across the room and slammed the window shut. He paused and turned to face Harry, opening his mouth furiously as if he were about to start shouting again. Instead, he pulled back his hand and knocked Harry in the side of his head so hard that Harry almost fell off the other side of his small bed. Without another word, he turned his back on Harry, stormed past Petunia and Dudley and stomped back to his own bedroom. Now that the show was over, Dudley smiled dumbly at Harry before going back to his own room.

Aunt Petunia stole one last furious glance at her nephew and was surprised to see that, although the boy had not made another sound, a single tear trickled from his left eye and down his cheek. She left the room without another word, closing the door softly behind her.

* * *

Harry finally got out of his bed after his relatives had left the room, brushing the tears from his face. Aunt Petunia probably thought he was crying because Vernon had hit him, but the truth was that the nightmare from which he had just awoken had, after the initial shock, left him with a large lump in his throat and a pain in his chest that made him feel that his heart was about to burst. He screwed up his face, fighting the despair that wanted so badly to come to the surface.

_It's my fault. Sirius died because of me._

Harry knew from the core of his being that it was true. If Harry had not gone to the Department of Mysteries that night, Sirius would never have died. If Harry had not been there, his parents would never have died. How many more would there be?

Not for the first time, Harry wished that he was not the Boy-Who-Lived. Since his first year at Hogwarts, he had often wished the trials and the celebrity of his status would simply go away. Tonight, he did not wish for that. Tonight, he wished that he had died with his parents. He could no longer bear the pain of his own existence.

Against his will, more tears of despair trickled from his green eyes down his flushed and sweaty cheeks. He swiped them away, feeling stifling hot in the airless room. Listening to make sure he didn't hear his relatives in the hallway outside his bedroom, Harry went over to open the window once again. He knew he did not have to worry about any more nightmares tonight, for tonight there would be no more sleep.

_...for neither can live while the other survives..._

Upon reaching his window he saw in the glass, instead of his own reflection, another face, a horribly familiar face. A face that was more snake-like than human, a face with evil, red eyes and narrow holes where the nose should have been. Lord Voldemort was staring through Harry's second-floor window, his face twisted in a sick grin.

_"I see you, Harry Potter. It's only a matter of time. You are ready to die, I can see it in your thoughts. I eagerly await the pleasure..."_

The face disappeared.

Harry's scar exploded with pain and he dropped to his knees, clutching his forehead. He was going to be sick. His body, weakened by lack of food and rest, shaking and pale as a ghost, finally gave in, and Harry fell, unconscious, the rest of the way to the floor.

* * *

Molly finished her note to Harry and tied it to Errol's leg, opening the drawing room window to let him into the dark night to take the message to Privet Drive. For years, she had known what it felt like to worry about Harry as well as the rest of her children, but she could not remember a time when she had been more worried about any of them than she was about Harry right now. What the poor dear must be going through...she did not like to think of him alone with those relatives of his when he was obviously in such a fragile state.

Would they care for him, make sure he ate, make sure he slept? Would they be ensuring that he got out in the sun? Molly highly doubted it, and she knew that they would not make themselves available to talk to Harry if he needed help, not that Harry would ask them anyway. She wanted him away from them. She wanted him here, where he belonged, with her and the rest of her family, and with Remus, the last of his father's friends.

No matter what Remus said, Molly had made up her mind that if Harry did not answer her owl directly and did not give a more detailed account of what his life was like this summer, she and Arthur both would be visiting Privet Drive in the near future. Dumbledore be damned. No one messed with Molly's children.

"Mum?" Molly's youngest child and only daughter entered the room behind her. Molly turned to face her, hoping that her worry was not too plain on her face.

"Yes, Ginny?"

"Is Errol taking a letter to Harry?" Ginny Weasley was extremely observant, and she had seen her mother fretting over the letter earlier in the evening.

"Just a quick note, dear, to let him know we are here if he needs us." Molly tried hard not to convey her worry to her children; they were worried enough without adding her own fears to their burden.

"He's been there for almost five days now, and we've not heard anything from him except that short note on the third day. I'm worried, Mum. Harry has an owl. Why isn't he answering our letters?"

Molly went to her daughter and hugged her tight, answering through the embrace. "Harry's grieving right now, Ginny. He's lost the closest thing he has ever had to a father. I imagine he is not writing because he just doesn't know what to say."

"Why, Mum? Why can't Harry be here? He needs us, and we need..." she trailed off, blushing slightly.

Molly broke apart from her daughter and studied her face intently. "Ginny, dear...is there something you want to talk to me about?"

Ginny sighed, lowering her eyes to avoid her mother's gaze. "No, Mum. I'm just worried, that’s all. Ron is, too. Even Fred and George are worried."

"I know...I know, Ginny. But Professor Dumbledore has said that Privet Drive is the only place in which Harry can be safe right now. It's only a few weeks more, dear, until his birthday."

"Is Harry coming on his birthday?"

"That is what we have been planning. I have an idea. Why don't you, Ron, Fred and George put your heads together and plan a little party for Harry's birthday when he arrives? I am sure he would like that. "

"Mum, that's brilliant!" Ginny said happily. "Of course we'll plan a party for him! Will you make food, and a cake? He's never had a real birthday cake before. Can we invite some of our other friends to come, too?"

Molly smiled at her daughter's enthusiasm, and she ruffled Ginny's red hair affectionately as she answered, "I would be delighted to make a birthday cake for Harry, dear, but I'm afraid the party will have to be confined to members of the Order, our family, and Hermione. We simply can't have too many people coming to headquarters. It wouldn't be safe."

Ginny was actually glad of this. If she invited others, she would have to invite her boyfriend, Dean Thomas, and that could prove to be awkward...but why, she wondered? It was not like she had a crush on Harry anymore.

* * *

Harry woke to the bright summer sun streaming through his bedroom window and was puzzled at first as to how he had ended up sleeping on the floor and how he had ended up sleeping so long. The clock on his bedside table said that it was nearly noon! Why hadn't his aunt woken him to help with the breakfast? Even though he was mainly confined to his room, he was never allowed to have a lie-in.

Harry's scar gave a familiar twinge. As he reached up to rub it, the events of the previous night came back to him in a rush. Harry jumped to his feet, grabbing his wand from his bedside table and moving more quickly than he had since he had come back to Privet Drive. The house was quiet...too quiet.

Pulling on the same baggy jeans he had worn the day before and a revolting vomit-green t-shirt, Harry crept out of his room and down the stairs. He nearly collapsed with relief when he heard water running in the kitchen and the familiar canned laughter coming from the television set in the lounge. He hid his wand under his shirt and continued to the kitchen, finding that the brief exertion had rendered him quite tired again.

Aunt Petunia was scrubbing the kitchen, peering as usual through the windows to spy on the neighbors as she did so. Harry entered the room quietly and sat at the kitchen table, resting his aching head in his hands.

"We had breakfast hours ago," Aunt Petunia snapped. "Vernon decided that if you are not courteous enough to come down on your own, you simply will not eat. You will have to wait for lunch."

Harry did not reply; he was not hungry anyway. His mind kept straying to the vision of Voldemort looking through the window into his bedroom. Harry knew now that Voldemort could not actually have been there; he must have been using legilimency to enter Harry's mind. Still, the memory was another thing to add to his list of items that were disturbing his peace of mind this summer. How had Voldemort gotten into his mind while he was on Privet Drive, though? That had never happened before.

_"You are ready to die. I can see it in your thoughts. I eagerly await the pleasure..."_

Although he had been afraid the night before, Harry could no longer even muster the will to worry anymore.

"Harry," Aunt Petunia said abruptly. Harry turned his head quickly to find his aunt looking at him intently, almost worriedly. He realized that this was one of the few times she had ever addressed him by his first name.

"Yes, Aunt Petunia?"

"What were you dreaming about last night?"

Harry was startled enough to come briefly out of his stupor. "I was dreaming about..." He could not tell her about the Prophecy. "I was dreaming about Sirius...about how he...how he died." Harry answered, trying not to choke on the words as the lump in his throat formed anew.

For some reason, he saw definite signs of relief flooding his aunt's narrow face. "Sirius," she snapped, sounding much more like her old self. "Your Godfather is dead, then." This was said without a trace of emotion, nor any question as to what had happened to him.

"Yes," Harry looked down. He did not want to talk about Sirius right now. That was one of the reasons he was avoiding communication with the Order.

"So the dream did not concern the man who killed your parents."

"Not directly, no."

"So we are still safe here."

"As far as I know." Harry, of course, was not about to tell Aunt Petunia that he had seen the face of the Dark Lord in his window the night before.

"Fine. Go back upstairs and make yourself presentable before lunch." Without another glance, Aunt Petunia turned her back on Harry and resumed scrubbing the kitchen sink.

When Harry got upstairs to his room, the first thing he noticed was a bedraggled-looking owl perched precariously on his windowsill with a scroll of parchment tied to his leg. Harry dragged his feet as he approached the window, remembering all too clearly what had happened the night before. In addition to that, he was not looking forward to reading another letter from the Weasleys. He had received a letter each from Ron and Ginny and had not answered them yet. He knew they were probably angry with him, but he just couldn't bring himself to write to them.

Harry raised the window to let Errol come in. The owl immediately flew over to his bed and flopped down, falling onto his back. Harry untied the scroll and was surprised to see the gently flowing handwriting of Mrs. Weasley. She had never sent him an owl before.

> _Harry, dear,_
> 
> _How are you doing so far this summer? We are all a bit worried about you. You sent only that short note yesterday, and that did not give us much information to go on._
> 
> _Are the Dursleys treating you well, dear? Have you been eating properly? And sleeping? I know this must be a very hard time for you, and I know the pain you must be feeling at the loss of Sirius. We are here for you. We care for you. Even though we are not able to be together just yet, it won't be long._
> 
> _Please send us an owl as soon as you can and let us know how you are doing._
> 
> _We miss you and we will have you out of there as soon as we can._
> 
> _Molly Weasley_

Harry sat down on his bed next to Errol and closed his eyes. He could almost hear Mrs. Weasley's mothering voice coming through the parchment, and he did not want to. Because of him, her son and her daughter had been injured at the Department of Mysteries. Because of him they could have died.

_The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies..._

Because of him, her entire family, herself included, was in even greater danger than the others in the Order. But she didn't know that, of course. Dumbledore had promised that Harry would not have to tell others about the prophecy until he was ready...and he would never be ready, he thought.

_It's you, Harry. It's always been you._

_It's you, and more people are going to die because of it. I died because of it. I died because of you._

Harry knew that Mrs. Weasley would feel differently about him if she knew. He was not her son, after all, and even though she had said last year that he was "as good as," Harry knew that it wasn't the same. If Ron or Ginny had died...if they did die because of him, Mrs. Weasley would never forgive him. Harry would never forgive himself.

He knew he had to send Errol back with a reply or members of the Order would show up on Uncle Vernon's doorstep even though it had not been three days. He knew he could not bear to look at any of them directly, so he crossed to his desk and took out a piece of parchment.

> _Dear Mrs. Weasley,_
> 
> _Thank you for your letter and your concern, but I promise you I am fine. Aunt Petunia is feeding me well, and I have gotten enough rest._

__

Harry cringed. He had never lied to any of the Weasleys. But this time, he knew he had to.

> _I am spending as much time out-of-doors as I can. This summer is not as hot as last summer, and it has been pleasant in Little Whinging. Taking long walks helps me to sort out my thoughts, as it always has._
> 
> _Is there any news that I should know about? Tell Ron and Ginny that I will write to them soon and not to worry._
> 
> _Harry_

Harry looked at the parchment critically. His handwriting looked odd; he had been having trouble stopping his hands from shaking as he wrote. Almost everything in it was a bald-faced lie, but he would not let the Order come here. He would not put any of them in more danger because of him. A summer at the Dursleys was a small price to pay for the safety of his friends.

Harry rolled and sealed the parchment with shaky hands, tied it to Errol's leg, and sent him out the window and back to the Burrow...or were they at headquarters? Never mind, Errol would know where to find them. 

\Harry flopped onto his bed, and again focused on the crack on the ceiling and began to count backwards. Instead of calming him as it usually did, each time he counted back, another one of his friends' faces flashed in his mind, their eyes open and blank, like Cedric's had been in the graveyard. 

_999, dead Ron._

_998, dead Hermione._

_997, dead Ginny._

_996, dead twins._

_995, dead Mr. and Mrs. Weasley._

_994, dead Lupin..._

Harry began to shake uncontrollably. He never heard his aunt's shrill call that lunch was on the table, or later, that he had better come downstairs if he wanted dinner. Harry didn't sleep, but neither did he move from his bed for the rest of the day. 


	3. Almost Nothing Left

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After more than a week passes with no word from Harry, the Order finally decides to intervene. Will they make it in time to save him?

After two days had passed without Harry leaving his room on Privet Drive any more than bare necessity required, Aunt Petunia began shoving food through the cat flap in Harry's bedroom door. She supposed that his friends had been sending him food, but she did not want Harry to complain that he had not been fed. Her suspicions were confirmed when she reached back through the cat flap to retrieve the trays and found that besides some small portions that looked suspiciously as if they had been eaten by something with a beak, the food was untouched. That horrible boy! If all he was going to do was sit in his room and brood, the least he could do was tell her he did not plan to eat the food she provided. But he did not, and fearing that the freaks would come if she did not keep giving him the food, she put a small meal through the cat flap three times a day.

On the other side of the door, Harry was growing weaker by the hour. It was not that he had decided not to eat. He wasn't trying to hurt himself; his head throbbed so badly that eating only made him retch. He could not stomach even a few spoonfuls of broth or a sip of the tepid tap water that Aunt Petunia provided. In the back of his mind was an incessant voice, high-pitched and evil, reminding him that all the deaths so far had been his fault and that surrender was his only option. The voice also replayed his parents' last moments, and at those times Harry would fall to his knees with his hands over his ears and stifle a scream.

Besides reminding Harry to send his note to the Order on the sixth day of the summer, the Dursleys seemed satisfied that Harry was at last staying out of sight, and they no longer attempted to communicate with him at all. Life on Privet Drive continued as usual outside of Harry's doors, not that he noticed. He was tortured, plagued by the voice during his waking hours and vivid nightmares when he slept. His state of mind had gone from bad to worse, and sleep had become almost nonexistent. Harry had taken to tying a t-shirt around his mouth before he fell asleep so that the Dursleys would not be awoken by his screams. The makeshift gag worked, but it did not make for a very comfortable sleep for Harry.

"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies..."

During the first two days spent in his room, the thoughts of the prophecy had him pacing back and forth, wearing a path into the carpet. By the third day, however, he had no more energy for pacing; it was all he could do to get up to use the facilities, and he only did so when he was certain that none of the Dursleys would see him.

On the fourth day in his bedroom, the eighth day of his summer holiday, Harry no longer had the strength to get out of his bed at all. Since he was unable to eat or drink, using the facilities was no longer a problem. Several owls had come through his window and dropped letters on his bed, but he did not open them; in fact, he did not even realize that they were there. On close observation, one would notice that he was becoming skeletally thin, his mouth dry and parched from lack of drink, his eyelids sewn together with mucus.

Aunt Petunia peeked into the room once after it had occurred to her that Harry might be sneaking out through his window. She did not look closely at her nephew, who was wrapped completely in his blankets to stave off the cold he continually felt. His trembling had become so slight from lack of energy that she did not even notice, nor did it occur to her that she should check on his well-being. She was simply happy that he was not roaming the house or the neighborhood, his weirdness flowing out of him like an aura.

By the ninth day of the summer vacation, Petunia and Vernon Dursley forgot to remind him to send a note to the Order.

* * *

At Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place a meeting was being held. It was not an official meeting of the Order, although all of the adults at the table were members; it was a meeting to discuss Harry Potter and his situation on Privet Drive.

"We haven't heard from him yet today. Albus, I am worried. His last letter was barely a sentence long, and all he said was that he was fine. Please." Molly Weasley looked entreatingly at the old Headmaster across the table.

"Molly, Harry is extremely vulnerable to attack right now, both physically and via Legilimency. I fear that Voldemort will find him anywhere but where the blood protection lies. We must be cautious, for if Petunia Dursley negates the blood contract, Harry will lose his last safe harbor," Professor Dumbledore answered, but no one at the table missed the worry in his eyes or the fact that the usual twinkle was conspicuously absent.

"Surely, though," Lupin answered, "checking on him once would do no harm."

"We've got to go!" Tonks spoke up. "Molly's right; something is off about this whole thing."

Charlie, Bill, and the Weasley twins said nothing, which testified that they were as worried about Harry as everyone else.

"I do not believe that having us barge into Number Four would do anything to improve his situation with his aunt and uncle," Dumbledore said gently, his heart aching at the fact that he had sent the boy to be on his own after everything that had happened. If there had been any other choice, he would not have done it. "I am quite certain we will hear from Harry before the day is out."

"No!" Molly interjected, and everyone at the table could see that she was working herself into a state. "No, Albus! We have to go! Can't you see, don't you understand how fragile Harry is right now? He needs to be with his friends."

Fred suddenly spoke up. "Mum's right. If you aren't going to do anything about this, Professor, George and I will go ourselves."

"Fred and George," Mr. Weasley said tiredly. "You are adults now and members of the Order. You no longer have the freedom of breaking rules. Think of what could happen! Harry's uncle could throw him out, and the blood protection would no longer be in effect at all. The consequences of hasty action could be disastrous."

"Dad's right, guys. We have to find a way to agree about what we are going to do, and we have to have a plan," Bill said. "However, I agree that something needs to be done. We can't just leave him there, and if we don't hear from him today, I have to assume that things are not going well."

"Please," Lupin muttered, and everyone was surprised to see the stoic man's face beginning to well with emotion. "Please, Albus. Let someone go." Remus knew that if Harry was suffering Sirius’s loss as much as he was, leaving him alone as they had was not only dangerous, but cruel.

It was this uncharacteristic plea that finally broke Dumbledore's resolve, and he relented. "We will wait two more days. Remember, we have had someone on duty since the beginning of the summer, and nothing untoward seems to have happened. If we have not heard from Harry, Remus will go to check in on him. The advance guard will accompany him in case of any problems, but Remus alone will go into the Dursley's home. I do not want to alarm his uncle into taking drastic action."

Molly heaved a sigh of relief and buried her face in her hands. The mother inside of her worried that Harry was in trouble. She hated waiting even two more minutes, much less two more days, but she knew that Dumbledore had his reasons. At least he had consented to let someone go. No Death Eaters had been spotted on Privet Drive; it was Harry's emotional state she was worried about, the loss and the guilt that she knew he would be feeling. She only hoped he would speak to Remus.

* * *

On the other side of the kitchen door, Ron and Ginny exchanged looks of relief that mirrored their mother's. They had each written to Harry several times, and had heard nothing from him since the start of the holiday. In her worry, Mrs. Weasley had forgotten to cast an Imperturbable charm on the kitchen door, and they had heard every word that had been said in the kitchen.

"Oh, Ron," Ginny whispered. "I hope he's okay." She hated to think of him all alone, so far away, with those people.

"Me too, sis," Ron replied, his voice almost breaking.

* * *

Remus Lupin dusted himself off as he stepped from the fireplace in Mrs. Figg's home. He did not want to Apparate onto Privet Drive, for Dumbledore had insisted that this be done as quietly as possible.

Remus could hardly wait for Tonks, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Dedalus Diggle, and Alastor Moody to follow him out of Mrs. Figg's house and onto Wisteria Walk. The tenth and eleventh day of the summer had passed with no word from Harry, and everyone, Dumbledore included, was growing increasingly worried.

All of them were dressed in the closest items they had to Muggle clothing, not wanting to call too much attention to themselves. When they reached Privet Drive, the advance guard waited in the play park for a signal from Remus, who continued walking up to the door to Number Four.

Vernon Dursley opened the door, his face going immediately purple at the sight of Lupin in his faded and torn Muggle trousers and mismatched oxford shirt.

"What are you doing here?" he snarled.

"I fancied a word with Harry," Lupin answered pleasantly. "Could you call him, please?"

Vernon puffed out his chest. "I thought I made it clear to you lot that I don't want you in my home. The boy is fine. I've seen to it that he remembered to write to you, so I ask again: what are you doing here? Leave immediately!"

"I'm sorry to inconvenience you, Mr. Dursley, but we did have not heard from Harry in almost a week. I will not be leaving until I have spoken with him. It will only take a moment." Lupin's tone was mild, but even Vernon could see the warning glint in his eye.

"Haven't heard..." Vernon spluttered. "I told him to write you. He must have just forgotten, or maybe the bloody bird got lost."

"Where is Harry, Mr. Dursley?" Lupin asked, his voice growing harder.

"He's in his room sulking," Vernon answered. "Been there for days. We've been giving him food, mind you. It's his choice to stay in his room."

"He hasn't been out of his bedroom for days? Have you seen him at all?"

"No. And we're all the better for it."

"Mr. Dursley, if you do not call Harry downstairs this instant I will personally go up to get him, and rest assured that I will not be quiet about it." Lupin's tone grew even harder, and there was a note of panic in it now.

"Fine," Vernon scowled at Lupin before turning to shout up the stairs, "Potter! There is someone here to see you."

Lupin watched the stairs expectantly, but when Harry did not appear his heart pounded in trepidation. Where was he?

"Potter! Come down at ONCE!"

Harry did not appear. Just as Molly had suspected, something was very, very wrong.

Lupin took a moment to turn and shoot a signal out of his wand and down the street, and Vernon cowered as though the man had just hexed him. "Listen here, you....you...I will not have..." Vernon struggled to overcome his fear and his face grew to an even darker shade of purple.

Lupin pushed past him and ran up the stairs to Harry's room. He tried the door; it was locked. He pounded furiously. "Harry! Harry! Are you in there? It's me, Remus. Let me in, Harry."

When there was no answer, Lupin raised his wand. "Alohomora!" When the lock clicked and he swung the door open, he saw Harry stretched out on his bed.

He crossed to him swiftly, and what color he had in his face drained completely. "Oh, no," he whispered.

Tonks, Kingsley, Dedalus, and Moody pounded up the stairs, oblivious to Vernon's outraged shouting. They stopped short when they came up behind Remus and saw Harry on the bed.

He was unconscious, a filthy t-shirt binding his mouth, a yellow-tinged bruise on the side of his face. He had no color, and his eyes and cheeks were so sunken that but for the slight rise and fall of his chest, they might have thought he was dead. Tonks turned, and in an uncharacteristic show of despair, buried her face in Kingsley Shacklebolt's chest. She couldn't stand to look.

Remus bent down over Harry, gently removing the gag from his mouth. "Harry," he whispered. "Harry?" He shook his shoulder slightly, and was startled that he could feel the ridge of Harry's collarbone easily through his shirt.

There was no response. Behind the group, Aunt Petunia entered the room. She opened her mouth to deliver a scathing comment to the weirdoes in her house, but was stopped short when she saw her nephew. For once, she was speechless.

Alastor Moody found his voice first. "Dursley!" he shouted. "Vernon Dursley!"

Vernon came into the room, but could not see Harry through the mass of bodies now surrounding him.

"Dursley," Moody growled in his most dangerous voice. "What in the bloody hell is the meaning of this? What have you done to him?" Moody pointed his wand at Dursley, shaking in an effort to control his rage.

"I've done nothing to the boy. He's been in his room! We didn't lock the door, he just wanted to stay. Has he left?" he stammered, his eyes never leaving Moody's wand. Petunia shook her head silently, and her husband was shocked to see her eyes filled with tears. He looked over the head of the shortest wizard, Dedalus Diggle, and saw Harry on the bed. "I didn't...we didn't..." He started to back away from Moody.

"I thought..." Petunia whispered. "I thought that redheaded woman was sending him food and that's why he wasn't eating what I gave him. She has been sending food with that owl for years. I didn't know...I didn't know..." she whimpered slightly. She had no love for the boy, but she would have had to be less than human not to be shocked by what had happened to him. "I just thought he was sulking because he didn't want to come here. "

Kingsley Shacklebolt patted Tonks awkwardly on the back as he surveyed the room. Lupin was now kneeling next to Harry's bed, trying to rouse him. Moody stood stock still with his wand pointed at Vernon Dursley, and Dedalus Diggle was searching for any clue as to what had been happening. Had someone managed to get into the room? Everyone who had been duty had said that no one unusual had entered or left the house, and Vernon and Petunia had kept to a normal routine. Since they couldn't see past the curtained windows of Number Four, however, no one had realized that Harry had stopped moving about the house.

"Right," Kingsley said in his deep voice. He pulled Tonks away from him. "Tonks, I need you to find Madam Pomfrey, as quickly as you can. Apparate to Hogsmeade and get up to the school, as I believe she is still there. Send her to headquarters."

Tonks nodded and with a soft "pop", disapparated.

"Moody, take the Dursleys outside the room and try to find out what has happened here."

Moody gestured at Petunia and Vernon with his wand, and the three moved out into the hall.

"Dedalus, find Dumbledore. We are going to need him. Use Arabella Figg's floo and check at the school, and at the Hog's Head, as I believe he had planned to visit his brother today. After you have found him, both of you go back to headquarters."

Another soft "pop" and Dedalus was gone.

"Remus," Kingsley began, but the man beside Harry's bed did not look up. "Remus."

"What happened, Kingsley? How did this happen?" Remus' whisper was pleading, almost desperate, and Kingsley noticed that he was shaking badly and had tears in his eyes.

"I don't know, Remus. We need to get Harry back to headquarters, though. It is obvious that he cannot stay here. Why don't you stay with him and pack his things. We need to get him to Arabella's without being seen."

Remus nodded. "Harry has an invisibility cloak. It is large enough to cover us both on the way."

"I need to go back to headquarters, Remus, and warn Molly. She'll want to keep the children out of the room when we bring Harry through the floo. Can you manage?"

No longer trusting his voice, Remus nodded. Kingsley disapparated.

Alone in the room with Harry, who was still unconscious despite all of Remus's efforts to wake him, Remus gingerly touched the boy's cheek. He hadn't realized how much Harry meant to him until that night in the Department of Mysteries when he had to hold him back from running through the veil after Sirius, but he knew now that losing Harry would be more than he could bear.

Knowing that he had very little time, Remus began bustling around Harry's room, enchanting everything that looked like it belonged to him to fly into Harry's school trunk at the foot of the bed. He noticed for the first time that there were several scrolls of parchment littering the floor next to Harry's bed, and he recognized one of them as his own. He had sent it two mornings ago! Had Harry been in this state for that long?

Assured that everything was in the trunk, Remus called Hedwig into her cage and shut her in for the journey. He rummaged through Harry's messily-packed trunk until he found the invisibility cloak and put it in his pocket. He went to the door and looked out. Moody was still talking to Vernon and Petunia, but he had lowered his wand.

"Alastor?"

Moody turned to look at Remus.

"When you are done here, will you please take Harry's things to headquarters?"

Moody nodded. "Is the boy going to be all right?"

Remus nearly choked on the words. "I don't know, Alastor. From the looks of things, he's been like this for at least two days.” A lump formed in Remus' throat, making it hard to speak. Given that Harry was the last link to the closest friends he had ever known, and considering a rather important item in Sirius’s will, he knew that losing Harry after everything else that had happened would be more than he could bear.

Crossing back to the bed, Remus picked Harry up, astonished at how light the boy had become. This was not the same athletic teenager who had fought to be released at the Ministry only weeks ago. Remus felt as though he were carrying either someone very young or extremely old, but not a vital fifteen-year-old boy. Without a word or a glance at the Dursleys, Remus carried Harry gently down the stairs, carefully covering both of them with the invisibility cloak before walking out of the house.


	4. In Excellent Care

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ron, Ginny, and the rest of the Weasleys react to Harry's condition when he is brought back to Grimmauld Place, and Madam Pomfrey must work at top speed to save his life. Will it be enough?

Molly, Arthur, Ron, and Ginny Weasley sat silently around the kitchen table at Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place. Every few minutes, someone would try to start a conversation, but they were all so consumed with wondering what was happening in Little Whinging that any other topic of discussion soon fizzled out.

"Mum?" Ron asked. "Do you think Harry will tell Professor Lupin what's been bothering him? He doesn't like to tell anyone anything that's bothering him."

"I don't know, dear. Professor Dumbledore sent Remus because he was also close to Sirius, so maybe he knows a bit about what Harry is going through."

"He has to talk to someone!" Ginny exclaimed. "He won't even send any owls! He can't deal with this all by himself."

"I know, dear. If he will talk to anyone, I think he will talk to Remus."

No one else spoke for a few minutes.

"Mum? You don't think anything has happened to Harry, do you?" Ron asked. "Even last summer, after everything that happened in that graveyard, he talked to us!"

It was Arthur who answered. "The Order has been keeping a watch on Privet Drive since Harry's return. Nothing out of the ordinary has happened there except that Harry has not been seen outside of the house."

"But Mum, didn't he tell you in his letter that he had been outside walking?" Ginny asked.

"Yes, dear, that is what he said, but I think he was trying to make me believe that he was all right. He doesn't want us to know how he is feeling right now."

"Bloody git," Ron said, the merest trace of a grin flickering across his face. "He thinks he's responsible for everything that happens to everybody, but when it comes to him, he doesn't want our help."

"Are they going to bring Harry back with them?" Ginny asked hopefully.

"I don't think so," Molly answered. "Professor Dumbledore just wanted Remus to check up on Harry. The blood protection is still essential, and as long as Harry is in that house, he is safe. You all know how important that is."

Ron and Ginny exchanged a glance. Their mother didn't know that they had listened in on the meeting two days before, but because they had they knew that she wanted Harry to come to Grimmauld Place as much as they did.

"Ron, Ginny," Arthur began. "It has been a very long day. Why don't the two of you go up to bed and you can talk to Remus in the morning. I know he will tell us how Harry is."

One glance at Ron and Ginny's faces and he knew his suggestion was no good. He sighed. "Well, then. How about a cup of tea while we wait?"

Mrs. Weasley got up and went to the kettle in the grate. She removed it to fill it with water and was just about to put it back on the trivet when the fireplace erupted in bright green flames and Kingsley Shacklebolt stepped into the kitchen.

Ron and Ginny gasped. Kingsley was part of the Advance Guard! If he was coming back without the others, it could not be good news. They both started to speak at once, but Mrs. Weasley snapped at them to be quiet.

"Molly, Arthur," he said. "I need to talk to the both of you. Perhaps it would be best if Ron and Ginny left the room for a moment."

"Mr. Shacklebolt, has Harry been attacked?" Ron asked the question that he knew was on Ginny's mind as well.

"Ron! Ginny! Upstairs and to bed with both of you. We will talk in the morning."

"No, Ron, Harry has not been attacked. I just need to talk to your parents for a moment. Order business."

Ron and Ginny were about to protest; even though they were relieved that Harry had not been attacked, they knew that something was not right. One look into their mother's stern face, and they knew it was no good. They just hoped that she would forget to charm the door again.

No such luck. A few seconds after they had closed the door behind them, Ginny threw her slipper at it, and it bounced back through the air without ever making contact. She swore.

* * *

"What is it, Kingsley? What's happened?" Mrs. Weasley’s face had gone pale, and she had to sit down.

"Harry, as we knew, was still at the Dursley’s house. We would have known if he had left, or if anyone had found him." Kingsley stopped. He knew he didn't have long to tell this story before Remus arrived with Harry, but he was not looking forward to Molly's reaction to Harry's condition.

"Yes, we know," Arthur interrupted, feeling almost as anxious as his wife. "Go on."

"When Remus talked to Vernon Dursley, he found out that none of the Dursleys had seen Harry for a few days. Dursley said he was sulking in his room and wouldn't come out, and complained that Petunia had had to bring his meals to him up there.

"When Vernon called Harry, Harry did not come. Remus went up to his room, and..." he trailed off, but Molly could see no sign of emotion on his face.

"And what, Kingsley? What?" Molly demanded. She felt as if the world had gone into slow motion, and a terrible fear gripped her heart. She knew something terrible had happened, but since he said there had been no attack, she didn't know what could have.

"Molly," Kingsley looked down at her and she saw a hint of sadness in his dark, stoic eyes. Arthur took her hand and nodded for Kingsley to continue. "When we found Harry, he was unconscious in his bed. His face was bruised, and someone had tied an old t-shirt around his mouth like a gag."

Arthur felt Molly begin to tremble and he leaned over to put his arms around her.

"Harry looked as though he hadn't had anything to eat or drink in days, maybe even a week. We could not rouse him, no matter what we tried to do. From the looks of his bedroom, he had been in that state for at least two days. The letters you all had written were unopened on his bed and on the floor. The owls must have dropped them off and then left."

"You...couldn't rouse him..." Molly whispered.

"He is still alive, Molly, but he is in a very serious condition," Kingsley said gravely, answering the question she couldn't bear to ask.

"How...why?"

"We are not sure what happened. Moody is questioning the Dursleys right now, but they say that they have been giving him food three times daily even though he refused to come down for meals, and that they do not know why he was gagged or bruised."

Molly stood up on the spot, but she was so distraught that Arthur had to support her. "Where is he?" she demanded. "Where is he? I want him here. I want him brought here. Do you hear me, Kingsley Shacklebolt? I want him right here, right now!" Her voice rose to an almost hysterical level.

"Shh...Molly, don't," Arthur coaxed.

"No! No, Arthur! Look what's happened to him! You call this safe? I want him here, Kingsley. I don't care what Dumbledore says. You bring him to me!"

Kingsley held up his hand and spoke in his most calming voice. "Molly, he is on his way. Remus is taking him to Figg's house and will floo with him here as soon as he can. I sent Tonks to find Poppy Pomfrey and Dedalus to find Albus. I expect them at any time."

At that very moment, the fire burned green again and the Hogwarts school nurse emerged from the flames. She looked around and said brusquely, "Where is he? Potter?"

"He is not here yet, Poppy," Kingsley answered. "We are expecting him shortly."

"He is not coming by floo?" The matron looked horrified.

"It is the quickest way to get him here, and his injuries are not of the traumatic nature. Remus Lupin has him; it will be all right."

Madam Pomfrey huffed her displeasure. From the sound of things, Potter belonged in St. Mungo's this time, but she knew as well as anybody that he was far too vulnerable there. She would have to do what she could here.

Tonks emerged from the fireplace next. Her eyes were red-rimmed, and Molly immediately went to her. "Tonks, what is it?"

"It's...oh, Molly...you should have seen him." Tonks burst into tears, which was very unlike her. She couldn't speak anymore through her sobs, and Molly hugged her, now more worried than ever.

They all turned as the fireplace burned green again, and this time Lupin emerged, carrying Harry as effortlessly as if he were a baby. Molly gasped at Harry's appearance. Whatever she had been expecting, it was not this...he looked as though he was about to die.

Madam Pomfrey hurried over to them. As she looked at Harry's face, pulling up his eyelids to see his eyes, her heart felt as though it had dropped into her stomach. She had been the nurse at Hogwarts for a long time, and she had seen almost every kind of injury one could imagine, but she had never seen anything that disturbed her as greatly as this.

"We need to get him into a bed," she said, her tone clipped. "Now."

"Remus, cover yourself and Harry with the invisibility cloak," Kingsley advised. "We can take him up to Sirius’s old room. Ron and Ginny and the other boys need to be warned before they see him. The shock would be too much."

Remus nodded and donned the cloak once again. They filed out of the room, and sure enough, Ron and Ginny were waiting just outside the door.

"Mum, is he here yet?" Ginny asked, and then gasped as Tonks and Madam Pomfrey came into the hall. "Why is Madam Pomfrey here? What's happened, Mum? Where's Harry?"

Ron stood mute, seemingly incapable of speech, his freckles standing out plainly from his pale face.

"Ron and Ginny, go get Fred and George, please," Molly asked quietly. "I want to talk to all of you in the kitchen."

For once, her children did not argue but ran up the stairs to do as their mother asked. Less than two minutes later, the four youngest Weasleys, Molly, and Arthur were once again seated around the large old table.

"Ron, Ginny, Fred, George," Molly began, but she choked on her words and her children were alarmed to see tears fill her eyes.

"Mum?" Ron whispered.

Arthur saw that Molly was not going to be able to tell her children what happened.

"They found Harry at the Dursley's, but he is in pretty bad shape," Arthur said with difficulty.

"But Kingsley said he wasn't attacked," Ginny stated disbelievingly.

"He wasn't; at least, not so far as we could tell. Harry is unconscious right now. It looks as though he has been for awhile. We do not know much, but we know that he had not eaten for days."

"Not eaten?" Ron asked. "What do you mean?"

"Ron, Harry is very sick. We won't really know what happened until he wakes up."

"But he'll be all right, won't he?" Ginny asked. The answer was apparent in her mother's face, and she reached out for Molly's hand.

"We don't know yet," Molly whispered through the tears that were now flowing down her face.

"But...but...I thought you said they would take care of him!" Fred interjected angrily. "How can he not have eaten? Were those people starving him?"

"We don't know, but we don't think so. We think that Harry chose not to eat, or couldn't eat for some other reason. It doesn't look as though he has had water, either." Arthur answered.

"Those...those..." George sputtered angrily, not being able to find a word bad enough for the Dursleys. "How could they just let him get that sick? How come they didn't contact us, or take him to hospital, or ... or something."

"We don't have those answers, George." Arthur did not tell his children about the gag, or about the bruise. They had enough to deal with as it was.

"Where is he?" Ginny asked softly.

"He's here," Arthur answered. "Remus took him up to Sirius’s old room. Madam Pomfrey is with him right now."

Before they could demand to see him or ask how he had gotten to Sirius’s room without their knowledge, they all heard a soft popping noise and Albus Dumbledore appeared on the other side of the kitchen.

"Where is he?" he asked without preamble.

"In Sirius’s old bedroom on the second floor," Molly answered. "Madam Pomfrey is with him."

Without another word, Dumbledore strode out of the room.

"Mum, I need to see him," Ginny whispered. Everyone at the table looked at her. Why had she said "I" and not "we"?

"You may see him after Madam Pomfrey is finished working," Arthur answered. "If she says it is all right to do so."

Ginny nodded and began to cry.

* * *

Upstairs, Remus shook off the invisibility cloak and lay the still-unconscious Harry gingerly atop the coverlet of Sirius’s bed, then found a blanket and covered him. Madam Pomfrey all but pushed him out of the way as soon as he had done that, and he crossed to the other side of the room, sat down weakly in an armchair and watched her silently, more afraid than he had been since the day he had learned that Lily and James Potter were in direct danger from Lord Voldemort.

Madam Pomfrey took out her wand and touched it softly to Harry's throat, muttering an incantation that Remus could not hear. She waited a moment and then sighed. She rummaged in her bag and took out several different vials.

"I need a fire, Lupin," she said without looking at him. "Quickly. We've no time to lose."

Remus crossed to the grate and quickly lit the fire with his wand. Madam Pomfrey took out a very small cauldron, poured the contents of two of the vials into it and took it to the fire, placing it in a pair of tongs and holding it over the flames until it began to steam. She hurried back over to Harry.

"Hold him up," she ordered. Remus moved quickly to the bed and sat down next to Harry, pulling the lifeless body into a sitting position and supporting the boy’s weight in his arms. Madam Pomfrey put the steaming cauldron as close to Harry's face as it could get without burning him and waited for him to inhale some of the light purple steam.

Some of the color returned to Harry's face, but he did not stir. "That should have brought him around enough so that he will swallow involuntarily the potions I need him to take."

Remus nodded.

"The first thing to do is to get some water into him," Madam Pomfrey said. "He is quite dehydrated, so much so that I am astounded that he is still alive."

Remus started at the harsh statement but lay Harry gently down again, went to the washroom, and filled an old-fashioned goblet full of cool water. He returned it to Madam Pomfrey, who asked him to hold Harry up again. Instead of putting the goblet to his cracked and swollen lips, she took a teaspoon out of her bag and began to slowly trickle the water into his mouth. When she had gotten three or four spoonfuls into Harry, she began administering the potions she had taken out of her bag. Through it all, Harry remained limp in Remus’s arms. When she had finally finished doing what she needed to do, Madam Pomfrey nodded to Remus, who lay Harry back down just as Dumbledore entered the room.

* * *

Down in the cellar kitchen, Molly held Ginny close as she cried. Fred had taken to pacing up and down the length of the kitchen, running his hands through his hair, and Ron sat at his place at the table, staring into space. George sat across from him, his face buried in his hands, and Arthur took Molly's usual spot of minding the teakettle.

When the kitchen door opened, they turned as one and stared as Remus Lupin walked into the room and dropped into one of the kitchen chairs.

"He will recover," Remus said quietly, and then covered his face with his shaking hands.


	5. Off the Radar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Harry continues in a state of near-death, Voldemort searches for him without success. Will he be able to gain access to Harry's mind now that Harry has been moved to Headquarters?

Somewhere off the coast of Italy, a man sat on a large stone chair, which sat on a raised dais in the center of a large, medieval-looking room. Around him were no fewer than twenty men and women, indistinguishable from one another in their flowing black robes and masks. All of them were on their knees with their heads bowed, waiting for their instructions.

"Have we found the boy yet?" Voldemort demanded in his inhuman, hissing voice.

A cool voice answered him from under the mask closest to the throne. "No, My Lord. He is no longer with his aunt and uncle, but we have been unable to locate him."

"How has this happened, Lucius? You, among others, were supposed to be keeping watch on the boy. How did he get away from you?" The Dark Lord's voice was menacing and low.

"The werewolf came to the door of his home, and after talking with the boy's uncle for a moment, shot a signal from his wand. Four of the others went into the house, but we did not see any of them leave. They must have Disapparated."

"Potter cannot Disapparate."

"I know, My Lord. I cannot explain it, but I will personally see that he is found," Malfoy answered, trying to appease his master.

"See that you do, Lucius. As you know, I have found a way to get past the wards protecting Harry Potter while he is with his relatives. We may not have been able to physically get close to him while he remained in the house, but I was able to focus on his mind, on his thoughts...even speak to him."

"A feat only you could have managed, My Lord," simpered Bellatrix Lestrange from his other side.

"Since the day prior to Potter's departure from that house, I have not been able to focus on the boy. I have searched, but it has been in vain. He seems to have vanished so completely that he has simply ceased to exist."

"I will ask my contact at the Ministry, My Lord," Lucius said swiftly, correctly sensing Voldemort's frustration and growing wrath.

Voldemort's voice was at its most dangerous. "I...want...him...found. Immediately!" At these words, the Death Eaters rose as one and began leaving the chamber, keeping their heads lowered.

* * *

From the time of Harry's arrival at Number Twelve, Grimmauld place, one person never left his side. Remus Lupin pulled Sirius's old armchair to the side of the bed and stayed with Harry around the clock, dozing on and off but never leaving the room. Madam Pomfrey had been by to see him twice daily, and left Remus with strengthening and hydrating potions to be spooned down the boy's throat hourly. She was certain that Harry would make a complete recovery with time, but Remus privately thought Harry hardly looked any better than when he had arrived two days before. He was just as limp, just as unresponsive. There was a slight pink tinge to his cheeks from the strengthening potion, but he remained as gaunt as before.

Molly Weasley spent almost as much time with Harry as Remus did, although she had to leave the room often to reassure Ron and Ginny. The first time Ginny had entered the room and seen Harry, her face had gone white and she had to be helped out of the room by Fred and George. She hadn't come back. Ron was being very quiet, preferring to spend his time alone in his own bedroom when he was not sitting with Harry. Arthur was not able to help much because he had taken on Molly's duties for the Order as well as his own, and he still had to go to work at the Ministry every day.

Molly and Remus both held his hands and talked to him, coaxing him to come back to them, telling him that he was with his family now. When the others came into the room, they encouraged them to do the same, but it was hard. Fred and George tried to make jokes, but couldn't ever seem to get to the punch line. Ron tried to talk about Quidditch, but found that having a one-sided conversation about it was not nearly as good as the enthusiastic arguments over the sport that he and Harry were known for. For the most part, Molly, Remus, and Harry were left alone.

"Harry," Remus whispered late on the third night after Molly had gone to bed. "I want you to listen to me, wherever you are. I know you can hear me."

He took a deep breath. "Harry, what happened to Sirius was not your fault. I know that you think it was, but you were tricked into going to the Department of Mysteries by Voldemort because he knew you would do anything to save your Godfather. You went there with courage and loyalty to Sirius. He went for you for the same reasons. That's what love is and what friendship is."

Tears filled Remus's eyes and spilled down his cheeks as he squeezed Harry's hand, glad that no one else was there to notice his weakness. "Sirius made the choice, Harry. He knew the risks, and he took them gladly. And in the end, Bellatrix Lestrange killed him. She killed him, Harry, not you. She is the only person on whom the blame can be placed."

Harry gave no response, but lay as still as he had been since his arrival.

"There is something else you need to know. Sirius was your legal guardian in the magical world. As your Godfather, you were his responsibility. He could not have lived with himself if he had not gone to you when you needed him.

"In his will, Sirius passed the torch of guardianship over to me. And Harry, I'm glad he did. You can come to me if you ever need anything. I know I am not Sirius or your father, but I am your friend, and I care about you more than you could guess. Right now, though, I need you to come back to me. Please, Harry. Please come back and let me help you. I can't lose you, too."

* * *

Someone was speaking to him, but he couldn't understand what they were saying. Who was there? Harry tried to open his eyes, but couldn't...his eyelids were too heavy to lift.

Where was he? It was too dark to know. He dimly heard someone pounding furiously on a door somewhere, but it was not the same person who was speaking to him. His mind was blank, no images there for once.

He was too tired to think of it now.

* * *

"How is he, Remus?" Dumbledore, who had been visiting daily, asked.

Remus sighed tiredly. "About the same. His eyes have started moving a bit behind the lids, but he hasn't opened them."

Dumbledore bent over the boy on the bed, mopping Harry's brow with a cool cloth. As usual, his eyes stopped on the scar on Harry's forehead, and he touched it, wondering at the power it seemed to hold. Just a scar...but one of the most powerful magical connections Dumbledore had ever known. He wondered what it had to do with Harry's condition. He knew there was something more to this.

"Harry?" he whispered. "It is time to come back to us."

* * *

"Harry, it is time to come back to us."

He knew that voice...Dumbledore...Dumbledore wanted him to come back? From where? Harry was right here, just sleeping. So peaceful just to sleep.

"Open your eyes, Harry."

The voice was becoming clearer, and Harry could see a bright light through his still-closed eyelids. He felt comfortable, and warm...and safe. Safe. His eyes fluttered.

"That's right, Harry." Dumbledore.

"Come on, Harry. You can do it." Another voice. Professor Lupin? What was he doing on Privet Drive?

"That's right, Potter. Come back to us. I have missed our little chats." Another voice, a high-pitched, inhuman voice, the "s" sound trailing like a snake's hiss. "I have been searching for you. I want to show you something."

An image unfolded like a curtain opening behind Harry's eyes. Voldemort sat on a throne in the middle of a large room. The group of Death Eaters surrounding the Dark Lord parted as Harry looked on, and Voldemort focused his piercing, red eyes on Harry.

"Your Godfather will not be the last to die, Potter..."

* * *

Remus and Dumbledore stared intently at Harry as his eyes fluttered and almost opened.

"That's right, Harry," Dumbledore said softly.

"Come on, Harry. You can do it," Remus coaxed.

Harry's pale face relaxed and it seemed for a moment that he might even smile a bit. Remus took his hand, squeezing it comfortingly.

Suddenly, Harry's entire body tensed, and his grip on Remus's hand would have been painful if he were not still so weak. "No," he moaned, his voice rough and cracked. "No more...my fault...because of me..."

Remus stared at Harry, alarmed and bewildered. Dumbledore, however, knew exactly what was happening. He leaned over Harry and began to gently shake him.

"Harry!" he said firmly, the softness in his voice gone. "Harry, it is Professor Dumbledore. You must wake up. Wake up, Harry!"

Harry's eyes flew open. He gasped and sat bolt upright in bed, but the sudden movement made him dizzy and he swayed. Remus leaned in quickly and caught him before he flopped back down. Harry looked wildly around. Where was he? This certainly was not his small bedroom on Privet Drive.

Remus shoved his usual reticence aside and placed his arm behind Harry's shoulders, holding him up. Both of them were trembling, Remus with relief, Harry in abject terror.

"It's all right, Harry," Remus said softly.

For the first time, Harry seemed to recognize his former professor's voice. "Pr...Professor Lupin?"

"Yes, Harry, it is me. Professor Dumbledore is here as well. We've been waiting for you to wake up." Remus released his hold on the boy, carefully placing some fat pillows behind his back.

"Professor Dumbledore?" Harry asked blankly. He could not figure out what was happening.

"Yes, Harry, I am here."

Harry's hoarse whisper became more panicked. "Professor...Voldemort...a gigantic room...where am I?"

Dumbledore gently touched Harry's shoulder. "You are at Headquarters, Harry. You have been here for over three days. This was Sirius's bedroom."

"Sirius!" Harry tried to sit up straight again.

Lupin gently pushed Harry back onto his pillows. "Before we do any more talking, Harry, there are some potions you need to take." He got up and selected three vials out of many from the top of a heavy oak chest in the corner of the room.

Harry looked at the vials suspiciously. "What are those for?" he questioned.

"One is a strengthening potion," Lupin answered, holding up the smallest of the vials. "Another is a hydrating potion, and the last is a nutritive potion. You were in pretty bad shape when we got you, Harry. These will help you recover."

Harry nodded. He was already starting to feel sleepy again, and as his mind cleared he felt he would rather sleep than talk to his professors and answer the questions he knew they would ask. He took all three potions without another word and lay back on his pillows, closing his eyes. After only a few moments, the gentle rise and fall of his chest became regular, and Harry was deep in a calm sleep.

* * *

Molly Weasley entered the dreary cellar kitchen with the idea of making a cup of soothing chamomile tea for Ginny, and was very surprised to see Albus Dumbledore sitting calmly in one of the chairs at the table, sipping a cup of steaming tea himself. The hour was very late, and Dumbledore spent what time he was able to spare at Harry's bedside. She looked at him with baited breath.

"He is awake," he said simply, a bit of the old twinkle back in his eyes. She clapped her hands to her mouth. "I should say he was awake. He has gone to sleep now, but the sleep is natural. Harry is back among us."

Tears filled Molly's eyes. No matter what Poppy Pomfrey had said, she would not believe that Harry would recover until she saw it with her own eyes. As long as she lived, she would never be able to erase the memory of Harry in Remus Lupin's arms, looking one step away from death.

"Has he told you what happened?" she whispered. She had so many fears for Harry...had he done this to himself? Had his relatives abused him? Or...was it something else?

"Not yet, but I have some suspicions. Let us see what he says tomorrow. We need to take this one step at a time, of course."

"Of course," Molly echoed. "May I see him?"

"Certainly. You will find Remus still with him. He will not be persuaded to leave the room."

Molly nodded at Dumbledore and turned from the room, Ginny's tea forgotten as she rushed as quietly as possible upstairs.

She knocked softly on the door and heard Remus's soft answer. She entered to find Remus sitting, as usual, in the armchair he had moved next to the bed, holding Harry's hand. Molly hadn't realized until that very moment that Lupin cared for Harry almost like a son, just as she did. The tears of mixed relief and sadness trickling down his face were testimony to that. Of course, she reasoned, Harry was the last connection to the best friends Remus had loved so much...but more than that, they had all come to love Harry for who he was, rather than who his parents were.

She crossed softly to the other side of the bed and took Harry's other hand. How many hours in the past three days had she and Remus sat together like this, each of them holding one of Harry's hands? But this time was different. This time they knew he was going to be all right. Molly smiled, and for the first time in days Remus smiled back. Harry was recovering. Of course there were other worries, but for now that was enough.

* * *

Almost a half an hour went by, and Molly still hadn't returned to Ginny's room. What's taking her so long? Ginny thought. Suddenly she was terrified. Something had happened with Harry. She knew it - it's the only reason her mother would have left to get her a cup of tea and not come back. Just as she was about to go find her mum, Ron walked into the room followed by the twins.

"You can't sleep either?" Fred asked.

"No," Ginny replied. "And Mum's been here with me, but she left half an hour ago to make me some tea and she hasn't come back yet."

Ron looked worriedly at his siblings. "I saw Dumbledore leaving Harry's room a while ago, but I couldn't see his face. Do you reckon they would have told us if something happened?"

All four of the Weasley children groaned in unison. Their mother was famous for her strict insistence on keeping her kids on a strictly need-to-know basis when it came to things like this.

Ginny had just made up her mind to go to Harry's room herself when Molly came into the room, a steaming cup of tea in her hand and tears running down her face.

Ginny's heart dropped into her chest, and she sat down on the bed. Fred, George, and Ron all joined her, all touching each other in some way as if they gathered strength in their togetherness. The Weasley brood may bicker, but it could never be said that they didn't stick together when times were hard.

Molly set the cup of tea on Ginny's nightstand and knelt in front of them, putting her eyes at their level just like she had when they were small.

"Harry woke up," she said softly. "He is going to be fine."

Ron's face broke into a grin that closely mirrored the ones on Fred's and George's faces. Ginny, however, burst into almost hysterical tears.

"What in the bloody hell are you crying for?" Ron asked his sister, utterly confused.

"I'm...I'm just..." she could hardly get the words out. "I'm so...so...happy!"

Ron gaped at her. "Ginny, when did you become such a girl?" Ginny turned to him and socked him playfully in the arm, smiling through her tears.

"That's more like it," Ron said. "I've got to send an owl to Hermione! I swore I would as soon as he woke up. She had to stay with her parents this summer, but she's worried herself half sick." He left the room with a grin, nearly skipping in his relief.

Ginny looked at Fred and George. "When did he write to Hermione? She and I write back and forth often, but she never mentioned that she was writing to Ron, too. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised, but I wonder why they kept it a secret."


	6. Assigning Blame

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry finds an unexpected ally as he comes back to himself...someone to help him, an adult he can finally trust.

When Harry next opened his eyes, the first thing he noticed was sunlight pouring through an open window to his right. He blinked, adjusting his eyes to the brightness, and looked around. A fire crackled in the grate, even though it was July, and next to the grate was the dresser he had noticed the night before. It was really a large piece of furniture, carved ornately in every space that would allow for carving. Each of its six wooden drawers was decorated with engraved scrollwork so elaborate that it almost seemed to be trying to convey a message to Harry, though he knew that couldn’t be true. On the top of the massive chest sat the myriad vials of potions Madam Pomfrey had left for him to take at regular intervals. As Harry gazed at them – had he ever had to take so many before, even with his frequent visits to the hospital wing? – he wondered just how ill he had really been.  
  
A comfortable-looking, well-worn leather armchair sat empty beside Harry's bed. No one was in the room with him. Although Harry did not realize it, this was the first time Remus Lupin had left his side in four days, and he had done so only on Dumbledore's insistence that they talk for a moment out of Harry's range of hearing.  
  
So this was Sirius’s room, Harry thought. He had never been inside it before. Last summer, he hadn't given it much thought, but now he felt a twinge of guilt that he didn't really even know where or how his godfather had lived.  
  
At the thought of Sirius, Harry felt the familiar lump rise into his chest, and he stared out the second-floor window at the hot, blue sky that was tainted only slightly by the smog that sometimes surrounded London on hot days.  
  
" _It's you, Harry, and more people are going to die because of it. I died because of it. I died because of you_."  
  
" _Your godfather won't be the last to die..._ "  
  
“Don't think about that,” Harry ordered himself fiercely. “It was a nightmare, that's all. A nightmare.” He spoke almost inaudibly, but his words seemed to echo around the large room.  
  
" _Oh, but was it, Potter? Was it just a nightmare_?" The cold voice that Harry had heard in the back of his mind while he was at the Dursley's had returned. " _I suppose you think your precious godfather is going to walk through the door any moment, do you? Was that all just a nightmare, too? He is dead, Potter, and he did not have to die. If only he had not chosen to stand in the way of my plans...and your destiny..._ " The voice laughed, a high, cruel laugh, and Harry's scar burned as if it had been branded. Harry put his hands over his ears to block out the voice and doubled over where he sat, trying as hard as he could not to vomit. The attack had ended, but the pain not yet abated.  
  


* * *

  
It had taken strong insistence on Dumbledore's part to convince Remus to leave Harry's bedside even for a moment, but Dumbledore did not want Harry to hear what he was about to tell the former Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. Ron, Ginny, and the twins were still asleep, having slept peacefully through the night for the first time this summer, and their mother was letting them have a rare lie-in. Molly herself was down getting tea for Albus and Remus and had said that as soon as she was finished with that, she would sit with Harry until Remus came back.  
  
Remus settled down in a dusty wing chair in the drawing room and looked at Dumbledore, who sat opposite him with an inscrutable look on his face, gazing at him over his half-moon glasses.  
  
"What's this about, Albus?" Remus asked finally. "What could be more important than being with Harry when he wakes up?"  
  
Dumbledore sighed and began, "You know that in his will, Sirius passed guardianship of Harry over to you."  
  
Remus gestured impatiently for Dumbledore to proceed to something he did not know.  
  
"When you signed it, you entered a binding magical contract to keep the boy in your care until he turns seventeen, which will be in a little over one year. "  
  
"Yes, Albus. I took it on gladly, as you well know."  
  
"Of course, Harry's circumstances are a little different with the necessity that he go back to Privet Drive for a time each summer."  
  
Lupin cursed, and then looked apologetically at Dumbledore. "I'm sorry, Albus. It's just that when I think of those people..."  
  
"And I am sorry to be, shall we say, avoiding the 'real' issue, Remus," Dumbledore said. "You see, I made a promise to Harry at the end of term never to tell a soul what I am about to tell you. I am about to break that promise, and you know that the breaking of a promise is not something to be taken lightly. Harry is already feeling rather mistrustful of me right now, and when he finds out that I have told you...well..."  
  
The younger man's attitude changed instantly from annoyance at having to leave Harry's side to intense concern. He had never known Albus Dumbledore to break a promise, and to break one he had made to Harry...now, of all times, when Harry needed to be able to trust the adults around him the most...whatever this was about, Remus knew it was important.  
  
"When Harry wakes, he will need to talk to someone, and I strongly suspect that someone will be you, Remus."  
  
Lupin nodded. He had already decided that his primary goal over the next few weeks would be to gain Harry’s confidence. Sirius had made a lot of progress in that endeavor prior to his death, but Lupin suspected that to convince Harry to trust him, to talk to him with confidence, was not going to be an easy task.  
  
"There is more Harry has to think about than Sirius’s death, although that in itself would be more than enough. When I talked to him after Sirius died, I told him everything. Although it was too late to save Sirius Black, I knew that it was time Harry knew what I know."  
  
"The prophecy," Remus muttered. The members of the Order had known that Voldemort was trying to lay his hands on a certain prophecy in the Department of Mysteries and that it had something to do with Harry. What they did not know, however, was what the prophecy said. Dumbledore had not let on that even he knew the exact contents, only that if Voldemort got it the results would be disastrous.  
  
"Yes, the prophecy," Dumbledore sighed, and Remus noticed that the twinkle was again absent from the Headmaster's eyes, and the lines on his face seemed deeper than ever before. Dumbledore was beginning to look his age.  
  
"Now that you are Harry's guardian, you need to know. Harry will not tell you, because he will feel that to tell you would be to put you at greater risk, and if nothing else, Harry always strives to protect those he cares about."  
  
"What does it say, Albus?"  
  
At that moment, Molly Weasley bustled into the room carrying an old-fashioned silver tea service that had once belonged to the Black family. She knew that Dumbledore wished to have this conversation with Remus alone, so she came and went quickly, knowing that she would eventually hear about anything involving Harry from one of her children.  
  
"There you go," she said briskly. "Piping hot peppermint tea. While you two finish your talk, I'll go and sit with Harry." She started out of the room and then turned to look at the tea service as if an idea had suddenly occurred to her.  
  
"Oh, dear," she sighed, and bent to examine one of the cups that didn't seem to be quite as tarnished as the rest of the set. Sure enough, when she tapped the cup with her wand, it sprang up and tried to bite her on the nose.  
  
"I should have known," she said, looking furious. "Fred and George have been up to something lately, and Ron said something about wanting to learn how to make nose-biting teacups for their shop. I should know by now not to take anything off of the kitchen table when I don't know who put it there. What am I going to do about those boys?" She picked up the teacup, which was now making grunting noises as though about to challenge Molly to a duel. She held it out in front of her as she left the room. "Be back in a moment; I'll just go back to the kitchen and get you another cup."  
  
As soon as she left the room, Remus repeated, "What does the prophecy say?"  
  
Dumbledore sighed yet again and cast his eyes downward. Remus knew what it was costing Dumbledore to tell him. The old man loved Harry and had guided him through more trials than any fifteen-year-old should have had to endure. Betraying Harry's trust; indeed, doing anything to further jeopardize their relationship, was very painful to him.  
  
Albus looked Remus directly in the eyes and began to speak the words that were haunting Harry's thoughts:  
  
" _The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches...Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies....and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not...and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives...The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies..._ "  
  
When he had finished, Dumbledore closed his eyes for a moment, and then opened them to find Remus staring at him, his mouth slightly open, all the color gone from his face. "Does that mean..."  
  
Molly came quickly back into the room with a new teacup and noticed the expression on Lupin's face. "Is everything all right?" she asked nervously.  
  
"Yes, Molly," Dumbledore answered. "Would you please go and check to see that Harry is still sleeping?"  
  
Molly knew she was being dismissed and bristled slightly but did as the Headmaster asked, reminding herself that she would know the answers soon enough. She left the room again.  
  
"Sweet Merlin, Albus, does that mean what I think it means? That Harry, our Harry, is the only one who can defeat Voldemort in the end? There has to be a mistake...we all thought it would be _you_." Remus looked at Dumbledore accusingly.  
  
"If I could take this burden off of Harry's shoulders you know that I would, but I cannot. It is his destiny to fight Voldemort. If he cannot win, there is not one of us who can."  
  
"And this is why he keeps coming after Harry, why he wanted Harry to be in that graveyard when he returned?"  
  
"Yes, among other things. You have noticed, of course, that Harry has escaped from him every time, not because he knew the right spells to cast but from his sheer strength of will and the power of his love and loyalty to his friends."  
  
"But Dumbledore, he's still just a boy. To have to live with this knowledge, to know that the longer he waits, the more people will die...how can we expect him to bear this? No wonder he is in such bad shape. He-"  
  
Lupin was interrupted by the entrance of a cloud of transparent silver vapor coming through the door, the signal the Order used when they needed to contact each other quickly. Lupin hardly had time to wonder why someone had contacted them in this manner before Molly Weasley's voice sounded in the room, reflecting her state of mind when she had cast her thoughts into the spell.  
  
"Remus, Dumbledore...come quick!" The voice was panicked and almost shrill, but no sound had been heard from upstairs – the spell simply conveyed the message that the sender wanted told to the other party, but the power of the spell meant it also picked up the emotion behind the thought, not just the thought itself.  
  
Remus jumped up and raced out of the room and up the stairs to the bedroom where Harry was staying. Dumbledore remained behind, almost as if he already knew what was happening.  
  


* * *

  
Remus entered Sirius’s bedroom to find Molly leaning over Harry's bed, her arms wrapped around him in a maternal hug. Harry, however, did not have his arms around her, but rather clapped over his ears, like a child who was trying not to hear his mother scolding him. His breath came in short gasps, and Molly rocked him back and forth gently, making soothing motherly sounds. He hurried to them and placed a hand on Molly's shoulder. A look of understanding passed between them, and she gently released Harry and stood slightly off to the side.  
  
Remus knelt by Harry's bed and gently pried his hands off his ears. Holding both of Harry's wrists lightly in one hand, he used the other to hold Harry's chin and softly force him to look up.  
  
"Harry, look at me. It's me, it's Remus. Are you all right?"  
  
"Professor Lupin?" Harry asked hoarsely, trying to focus through the throbbing of his head.  
  
"Yes, Harry."  
  
"I need to talk to you..." Harry trailed off and looked down at his lap.  
  
Remus knew what this was going to be about, and he wasn't about to let Harry blame himself for Sirius’s death as he knew the young wizard had been doing ever since the night it had happened.  
  
Molly watched the exchange between them until she remembered that, besides all of his potions, Harry had still not had anything proper to eat in many days. She knew that at the moment what Harry and Remus needed most was privacy, so she smiled down at them and said, "I know just what you need, Harry. You need something proper to eat. No, don't argue with me, young man," she said almost sternly as Harry looked at her, about to protest. "I am going right down to fix you a spot of breakfast, and you will eat it, like it or not!" She left the room before either of them could argue.  
  
"She's a force to be reckoned with, you know," Lupin commented, smiling a bit. "She's hardly left your side since you got here, and she's been waiting for days to be able to put some meat back on your bones. Best not to argue."  
  
Harry nodded, but Remus could see that he wasn't feeling well. Beads of sweat stood out on his forehead, and his face was very flushed. "How are you feeling, Harry?"  
  
"I'm okay," Harry responded automatically, even though he knew that he was anything but.  
  
"Harry, that's not going to be enough for me, I'm afraid. I want honesty from you. Put whatever kind of front you would like to put up for the others, but with me, you're to be honest.” Lupin kept his voice firm. He had had many hours to plan how he would convince Harry to be truthful to him as he sat by Harry’s bedside, and had decided that his first method would simply be insistence. “Let's do it again. How are you feeling, Harry?"”  
  
Harry would not meet Remus’s eyes. "I’m really all right. Only my head hurts a little."  
  
"Is that all? Or is there something else? I can give you a potion to help with the headache."  
  
Harry finally looked at the older man, and saw the concern in his eyes. He weighed his options. In Remus’s eyes, he saw no condemnation or pity. What was more than that, however, he had the same feeling of connection that he had experienced when he had first found out that Sirius was his godfather. He took a deep breath. "I've been...I don't know... _hearing things_."  
  
Remus had not expected that. "What kinds of things?" he asked as nonchalantly as he could.  
  
"I hear...him...in my head. Voldemort. It comes and it goes, but I can hear him speaking, telling me that I have to give in to him, that if I don't..."  
  
"If you don't?" Remus tried not to show that this bit of news was rather alarming to him.  
  
"If I don't," Harry whispered, "more people are going to die...because of me."  
  
Lupin frowned. "This was happening at your aunt and uncle's house as well?"  
  
"Yeah," said Harry. "It started soon after I arrived."  
  
"Harry, before we go any further with this, I want you to tell me what happened before we took you away." Remus knew he would need to talk to Dumbledore about the voice Harry was hearing, but he did not want to leave Harry until he was sleeping again, so he shifted the subject. "Why weren't you eating, Harry? Weren't your aunt and uncle feeding you?"  
  
"Yes," said Harry. "Aunt Petunia put food through the slot in my door every day after I stopped going for meals. I tried to eat, I really did, but every swallow made me sick."  
  
"So you weren't...trying to hurt yourself?"  
  
"No! I swear I wasn't!" Harry was appalled that anyone could come to that conclusion.  
  
"Okay, Harry, I believe you. I just had to know. I know how hard it can be..." Remus’s voice trailed off. He knew exactly how hard it was to lose someone you cared for, and to feel responsible for their death. He tried to shake off his sadness as his continued, "There are a couple of other things I need to know about. When we found you, you had a t-shirt tied around your mouth. Who did that to you?"  
  
Harry looked ashamed, and for a moment Remus thought he wasn't going to answer. Then, in the smallest of whispers, "I did."  
  
" _You_ did? Harry, why would you do such a thing?" Even as he asked, Remus guessed the answer, and he started to feel slightly sick. Why had they left Harry there for so long?  
  
"I was having nightmares," Harry said simply. "I woke my uncle and aunt up one night shouting. After that, I just thought that it would be best."  
  
"Is that how you got the bruise on your face? That night, when your relatives woke up?"  
  
Harry nodded, looking back down at his lap.  
  
Lupin tried to contain his fury. It was lucky that Vernon Dursley was far away from Grimmauld Place, for if he hadn't been, he would have been very sorry indeed. "Why didn't you tell us?"  
  
"I didn't want you to come for me. People are safer when I'm not there." The emotion behind the words rent Remus’s heart, and he immediately moved to another part of his plan.  
  
"Harry James Potter," he said firmly, and Harry's eyes widened at the abrupt change in tone. "It is not for you to decide what the rest of us do and do not do. We make our own choices, and we know the risks we take every day. You are not going to be able to stop us from taking those risks.  
  
"In times like these, kid, people have to take risks. It's the only way any of us are going to survive. Since I met you in your third year, Harry, I have watched you risk your own life for your friends many times. Why do you think that you have the right to risk yourself for us, but not allow us to do the same?"  
  
"Sirius came for me," Harry whispered, feeling the familiar lump come back up into his throat, "and it was the last thing he ever did."  
  
Those words hung in the air as Remus tried to keep his eyes from welling. Sirius had been his best friend in the world and not a minute went by that he did not miss his presence in the gloomy old house. Despite his best effort to hide it, Harry saw the tears in his former professor's eyes and pulled away. "I'm sorry, Professor Lupin. I know he was your friend. If you can't forgive me for making him go to the Ministry, well, I don't deserve to be forgiven anyway."  
  
Remus knew then that Harry had not heard what he had been telling him while he was unconscious. "Harry, look at me."  
  
Harry's eyes stayed down.  
  
"Look at me!" When Harry finally raised his eyes, Remus continued, "Harry, I am only going to say this once, so see that you listen. Sirius’s death was not your fault. Voldemort played on your loyalty to those you loved, and tricked you into going there. He knew you would risk your own life for your godfather. Voldemort doesn't understand that kind of love, but he knew that the one way to get you to the Department of Mysteries that night was to play on what he sees as your weakness, your ability to love. Sirius came after you for the same reason. Sirius loved you, Harry, and he could not have lived with himself if he hadn't gone.  
  
"Bellatrix Lestrange killed Sirius, her own cousin. She killed him. The blame lies with her, and she will never find forgiveness, never find absolution from that."  
  
"But if I hadn't gone, she wouldn't have had the chance to kill him," Harry said softly.  
  
"When you thought Sirius was in danger, Harry, you had no choice but to go, just as he had no choice when he thought you were. I miss him, too. He was my dearest friend, but not for one second do I blame you for it. Not for one moment have I _ever_ blamed you for it."  
  
Harry's face screwed up, and Remus saw that he was fighting not to sob. His heart broke for the boy, and he leaned in and gathered him into a fierce hug. "It's okay to cry sometimes, Harry."  
  
Harry finally let go and sobbed great wracking sobs into the shoulder of his old professor. When he finally stopped some ten minutes later, Remus could see that Harry was worn out again, but his heart lightened considerably when he also saw that Harry's face, though blotchy and tearstained, was more peaceful.  
  
"It's time to take your potions again, Harry. After that, I want you to sleep. We've talked enough for now, and Madam Pomfrey will have my head if you don’t get your rest." He went to the chest and took not three, but four vials from the assortment and brought them to Harry. This time, Harry did not question anything but drank the four potions, chased the taste away with a sip of cool water, settled back down into his pillows, and fell asleep in minutes.


	7. Protection Gone Astray

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ginny reveals her feelings to Harry, but he doesn't seem to hear it. Molly, Remus, and Dumbledore discuss what has happened and make plans to help Harry become stronger.

As Molly searched for eggs in the ancient icebox of the cellar kitchen, she wondered what Remus and Harry were talking about upstairs. She knew that she had done the right thing in leaving them alone, but her worry about Harry was growing even though he was awake and aware now. What had been happening to him when she came into the room? Why were his hands over his ears? She had never seen Harry act that way before.  
  
Molly was relieved that Remus had agreed to take over guardianship of Harry. It made sense that Sirius would have left his godson in the hands of the last Marauder, and Molly secretly thought that Remus was more suited to the role than Sirius had been. She intended to help him, though. Ever since she had met Harry on Platform Nine and Three-Quarters before his first year, she had taken a special interest in him. Now that Harry was back with them, she was going to see to it that he made a full recovery, no matter what she had to do.  
  
"Ah!" she exclaimed, finding a basket of eggs near the back of the icebox. She broke four of them into a glass bowl and pointed her wand at the kitchen whisk. She watched the whisk merrily scramble the eggs while she heated the skillet and started on some sausage and toast, turning as she heard someone enter the room.  
  
"Good morning, Ginny. How did you sleep?"  
  
Ginny was wearing a long, bright red nightgown that reached past her knees and clashed violently with her hair. "All right, Mum. What time is it? Can we see Harry now?" After some consultation, Molly and Lupin had decided not to risk waking Harry the night before, and had told Ron and Ginny that they could see him in the morning.  
  
"I'm about to take Harry's breakfast to him. You may come with me, dear, if you hurry upstairs and get dressed. It wouldn't be proper for Harry and Remus to see you in only your nightgown. We aren't at the Burrow anymore." Molly's gentle reprimand caused Ginny to blush, and, telling her mother not to go without her, she hurried back up the stairs to change.  
  
Watching her go, Molly absentmindedly finished cooking the breakfast. She wondered what her daughter was so anxious about. Of course they were all worried about Harry, but there seemed to be something more going on with Ginny. She seemed even more anxious than Ron to see Harry, and that was saying a lot, as Ron had spent the better part of an hour the night before (after he had sent Pig to the Granger's) trying to convince his mother that Harry would want to see him.  
  
Molly realized that she hadn't seen Dean Thomas's gray screech owl since the day before Harry's arrival. She wondered about that, too, and she sighed. Ginny was becoming a young lady more quickly than Molly was prepared for. She would be entering her fifth year of school, the year, Molly remembered, that she had fallen in love with Arthur Weasley. The motherly witch knew that Ginny had once had a schoolgirl crush on Harry, but she was starting to wonder now if it had grown into something more.  
  
When Ginny returned, she was wearing a pair of faded blue jeans and a Muggle t-shirt that she had stolen from Fred's closet. "Come on, Mum!" she said hurriedly as she took the tray of breakfast from her mother and backed out the kitchen door.  
  
When they arrived in Sirius’s room, Molly was dismayed to find that Harry had already gone back to sleep. "Remus!" she whispered, beckoning to him. "Harry needs to eat something. Should we wake him?"  
  
"No," Remus said softly. "I gave him a dreamless sleep potion along with the others."  
  
"Why did you do that? Why couldn't it wait until after Harry had some proper food in his stomach? Look at him! He looks better, but he is still skin and bones!" Molly couldn't help but be annoyed. Remus had known that she was making breakfast. Why didn't he wait?  
  
"Molly, let's discuss this outside."  
  
Molly noticed the concern in his eyes and stopped her whispered tirade, but she still felt a bit annoyed. Casting a charm on Harry's plate to keep it piping hot until he woke up, she turned to Ginny. "Would you like to sit with him for awhile, dear? As I'm sure you can see, he is doing much better, but he'll need to see a friendly face when he wakes up."  
  
Ginny nodded. "Mum...has Harry been crying?" She had never known Harry to cry, but the puffiness around his eyes and the blotches on his face were tell-tale signs of a good fit of the sobs.  
  
It was Remus who answered, smiling at her with a mixture of sadness and understanding. "Yes, Ginny, although it is probably best if you don't let on that you know that."  
  
Ginny nodded again; she understood that, as she had been doing a fair bit of crying herself the past few days. As Molly and Professor Lupin left the room, she took a seat in the old armchair and took Harry's hand in both of hers, as she had seen her mother do so many times in the past few days. Even though Ginny had not been able to bring herself to enter Harry's room while he was unconscious, she had peeked in several times, mostly to reassure herself that he was still alive.  
  
Even though Harry was lying flat on his bed, his eyes closed and his face still dangerously thin, it was easily apparent that he was sleeping naturally now, rather than unconscious as he had been. For one thing, he had some color in his face, and there was just something about his peaceful expression that calmed Ginny's heart.  
  
"Harry, it's me, Ginny," she began. She felt a little silly talking to him. She knew well enough that people under the influence of sleeping potions did not hear the voices of people around them. However, she had seen her mother doing the same thing when Harry had been unconscious, and she reasoned that somewhere, deep down inside of him, Harry would hear her voice, if not her words.  
  
"I've got loads to tell you, of course. The summer's only just begun, but so far we haven't had a dull day. Mostly, of course, everyone's been worried sick about you. What were you on about, starving yourself until you almost died? Don't you know what that did to us? To Professor Lupin? To Ron? Not to mention my mum. She's been in a right state, I don't mind telling you." Ginny had not heard what Harry had said to Lupin about why he hadn't been eating, and she incorrectly assumed that Harry had simply gotten so depressed that he wasn't taking care of himself. That made her angry, even if she wasn't certain why.  
  
"You great prat, Harry Potter!" she burst out. "If things were so bad, why didn't you tell us? Didn't you know that we would come for you if you needed us? Or do you think we were all just hanging around here having a grand old time without you?"  
  
Ginny forced herself to calm down, wondering what in the world had made her talk to Harry like that. Just because he couldn't hear her was no excuse. Her voice softened. "I'm sorry, Harry. I can only imagine what you have been going through since Sirius died...I can remember how I felt when Dad was attacked last year and we all thought he wasn't going to make it." Ginny's grip on his hand tightened as she remembered, and she felt an upsurge of pity for her friend. Her dad had lived, but Harry had lost his godfather, the closest thing he had to a dad himself. Maybe she couldn't really understand what he was feeling. With a shudder at the thought of losing one of her parents, she hoped she'd never have to understand.  
  
Ginny got off this rather depressing subject and started to tell Harry everything else going on in the house. She was surprised how easily the words came, even though Harry was making no response.  
  
"Dad hasn't been around too much, and we all miss him. Since you came, he's taken over Mum's duties in the Order as well as his own. He's still working at the Ministry, of course, so he leaves very early each morning and we usually don't see him before we go to bed.  
  
"I don't know exactly what the Order is getting up to these days. I know that, based on what Snape has said, Voldemort is building a stronghold somewhere, but since Voldemort is the Secret-Keeper for it, the old bat hasn't been able to reveal the location to us. You wouldn't believe it, but it was actually _Mum_ who let that one slip!" Ginny giggled. "Of course, she forbid us all to talk about it, even to each other, but you know from experience how well that went over."  
  
"Fred and George have finally invented their version of the nose-biting teacup for their shop. Theirs is better than the one from Zonko’s. Not only does it try to bite whoever drinks from it, but it makes little noises and hops around like it's trying to challenge the person to a duel. Of course, if there is any tea in it, it all splashes out. It's brilliant! Mum, I think, has finally gotten over the fact that Fred and George are going to be at Weasley's Wizard Wheezes for a long time. Business is booming, and she doesn't try to forbid them to make new products anymore, although she does shout when one of them interferes with whatever she is trying to do.  
  
"You know what else, Harry? We all reckon that Ron and Hermione have got together! By something Ron let slip yesterday when you woke up, we gather that Pig could get to the Granger's with his eyes closed and one wing tied behind his back by now. Hermione is actually spending the holiday with her parents, for once. They insisted, and she does miss them quite a lot. When you get up and around, you ask Ron about it, and you had better tell me what you find out!"  
  
Taking a breather from her chatter, Ginny looked around. There was really no more gossip she could tell Harry right now. She cast about for something else to talk about, enjoying being alone with her friend and knowing that once Ron, Fred and George woke up, she wasn't likely to get another opportunity like this for today or the rest of the summer, for that matter.  
  
She lowered her voice. Maybe it was a good thing that Harry wasn't hearing a word of her banter, for she had something she wanted to get off her chest, but she wasn't sure if she was really ready for Harry to actually know. Maybe telling him while he was asleep would put the idea in the back of his mind without him ever knowing how it got there. "Dean and I split a few days ago. He sent his owl the day before you came here and said that if all I could talk about was you, then maybe we should just be friends.  
  
"The funny thing, Harry, is that I didn't feel too upset by it. I mean, I _like_ Dean, of course, but I was starting to wonder if I really felt _that_ way about him. And I can't really blame him...I think I have been rather unfair to him, but the fact is that I have been so worried about you that I really couldn't think about anything else. I can't blame him for being jealous, I suppose, although I don't really know if there is anything to be jealous of.  
  
"All I do know is that when I thought you might die, it drilled a hole right through my heart. You can't ever leave me...I mean, leave us. We love you, Harry."  
  
With these words, Ginny was finally spent. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew that she'd had that whole one-sided conversation simply to get that last sentence out. She leaned over and put her cheek to Harry's chest, and sat, listening to his steady heartbeat and shallow breaths. She didn't know why, but she had an indescribable need just to be close to him.

* * *

  
As soon as the door had closed behind them, Molly rounded on Remus Lupin and demanded, "What happened to Harry? What was going on when I came into the room? Did he tell you?"  
  
Remus passed a hand over his weary eyes. "Molly, I'll tell you everything I know, but I want to see if Dumbledore is still here. There are a couple of things we should all talk about."  
  
Molly nodded nervously as they made their way to the drawing room, and she had to ask, "Remus, is he all right? What caused him to get so ill?"  
  
"Just a minute, Molly." They entered the drawing room to find Albus Dumbledore still sitting in the wing chair where Remus had left him. He was staring into the grate, but had not started a fire as the room was already rather warm. He looked up as they entered.  
  
"Ah, Molly, Remus," he greeted them. "Have you anything to report?"  
  
They stared at him. Anything to report? That was an odd way to ask about Harry, as if he were just another piece of business for the Order to discuss.  
  
"Harry told me what happened to him this summer, Albus," Remus began. "And there are some things that happened that you should know about."  
  
Dumbledore nodded, and gestured for both of them to sit down.  
  
"First of all," Remus began, "Harry was not trying to hurt himself, as I had initially feared. He was trying to eat, but he said that every bite made him sick, and I think eventually he got too weak to even try."  
  
"And the gag? The bruise?" Molly wondered.  
  
"Harry tied the gag around his mouth himself, Molly."  
  
Molly gasped. She had been fully expecting to hear that his uncle had done it. "Why?"  
  
"Apparently he was having nightmares, and he woke his relatives one night when he woke up screaming. That's where the bruise came from," Remus answered. His voice was as calm as ever, but he was gripping the arms of his wingchair so tightly in suppressed rage that his knuckles were white. "He said after that he thought it would be best for him to stifle any sound, and since he couldn't use magic, he tied the t-shirt around his mouth."  
  
"How horrible," Molly whispered.  
  
Albus Dumbledore had yet to comment. So far, nothing Remus had said surprised him. He knew that Harry had a tendency to have nightmares, which was the only outlet for the fears and regrets the boy kept bottled up during his waking hours. He also knew that for the most part Harry tried to stay out of his relatives' way. After his uncle had hit him, he would have tried any way he could not to wake them again.  
  
"Why didn't Harry say anything?" Molly asked desperately. "Last summer hardly a day went by when he wasn't demanding that we come and take him away and tell him what had been happening with You-Know-Who."  
  
"I wondered the same thing, and he said that he didn't want us to come for him, that people are safer when he's not there."  
  
Albus turned suddenly to look at Harry's guardian. Something in the man's voice suggested that Harry had more reason than usual to think something like that. "Did he say why, Remus?" he asked.  
  
"He said he'd been hearing things, a voice inside his head that told him if he didn't give in, more people would die, and that his head had been hurting the entire time he heard it."  
  
Albus sighed. Ever since Harry had awoken so terrified, so _broken_ , he had feared something like this. "Voldemort," he said softly.  
  
"I'm afraid so," Remus answered. "At first, I thought it was Harry's guilt that was speaking through his nightmares. But it appears there is more to it than that."  
  
Molly was shaking, her face white. "I thought you said he was _safe_ , Albus! That's why he had to stay there, because You-Know-Who couldn't find him, couldn't hurt him while he was there! We should never have sent him away!" Her voice started to rise.  
  
Albus held up a hand to silence Molly. "Throughout Harry's life thus far, Privet Drive has been the one place Voldemort could not find him. Make no mistake; he knows the location well enough, but the wards around the house have made it impossible for him to harm Harry or his relatives while Harry is there. It would appear that while Voldemort has not been able to physically penetrate the wards, he at last found a way to break past them and into Harry's mind. He is a very skilled legilimens, as you are aware."  
  
"So you believe...you believe that You-Know-Who has actually been _speaking_ to Harry all summer?" Molly asked the Headmaster.  
  
"In a manner of speaking, yes, that is what I believe," Albus said sadly. For his own part, he regretted that he had not better protected Harry, but he had believed that he was safe at Privet Drive, what with the blood protection, the powerful wards surrounding the house, and the members of the Order keeping a constant watch.  
  
"Harry feels as though Sirius’s death was his fault, as you both know," Remus said. "I cannot imagine what he has been going through, and as if that wasn't enough, he had Voldemort's voice in his head telling him that Sirius would not be the last to die." He did not mention the prophecy, for it would be Harry's choice to tell Mrs. Weasley when he was ready.  
  
"What mental defenses Harry has would have been down significantly after his ordeal at the Department of Mysteries and the loss of Sirius. It would have made it easier than usual for Voldemort to break into his mind," Dumbledore said.  
  
"And you thought sending him to those people would help him become stronger, did you? Thought that being all alone with no one to care for him would keep him safe, did you? He should have been here with us!" Molly's voice rose again, and both Remus and Dumbledore could hear the blatant anger behind her words.  
  
"Molly, please," Remus said softly. "There was no way we could have known –"  
  
"No, Remus," Albus interrupted. "Molly is right to a certain extent. I put too much faith in the wards surrounding his aunt's house and in the blood protection itself. I do not know, however, if we would have been able to prevent this, even here." His voice was incredibly sad, and he felt the heavy weight of Harry's distress on his mind.  
  
"Was that what happened as Harry woke up and why he suddenly became so terrified?" Remus asked.  
  
"I was afraid so at the time," Dumbledore answered, "and what you have told us only confirms my suspicions. I think when Harry was so deeply unconscious his mind was unreachable, and Voldemort was unable to find him. When Harry began to come around enough to hear our voices, Voldemort was able to break back in as well."  
  
"What are we going to do?" Molly whispered. "We have to help him."  
  
"The first thing to do is to get him healthy again. Madam Pomfrey has left potions that will allow Harry to eat and help his body recover from the dehydration and starvation that it went through," Remus answered. "Harry needs to see his friends, to be with them and with us. He should not be left alone, even for a moment, until he becomes strong enough to try to resist Voldemort."  
  
Molly nodded.  
  
"I will come daily to work with Harry on building his defenses against him," Dumbledore added. "I am afraid I made a mistake last year in assigning Severus Snape the task of teaching Harry occlumency. The discord between the two prevented Harry from being able to properly block Voldemort from his mind."  
  
"It seems you have been making many _mistakes_ when it comes to Harry's well-being," Molly broke in, glaring at the Headmaster.  
  
"Molly!" exclaimed Remus.  
  
"I will not deny it," Dumbledore answered softly. "But Molly, I care for Harry more than you could know, and the mistakes I have made have always been because I care for him so much. I must return to Hogwarts. I have some preparations I need to make for Harry's training. I will come to begin Harry’s training tomorrow morning."  
  
All three stood, and Dumbledore swept quickly from the room. Molly and Remus looked at one another, and both were struck by the immense weight of sadness in the other's eyes. It was going to be a long road for Harry, and even with all the help they were willing to give him they were afraid it would not end happily.


	8. Coming Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry begins interacting with all the inhabitants of Grimmauld Place with some mixed results, Ron's got a secret, and Ginny sees something she wasn't meant to see.

"I'm telling you, Ginny; nothing is going on between me and Hermione!" Ron's voice was half angry, half amused as he looked at his sister's playful face. "She's just worried about Harry like the rest of us, and since she can't be here, someone has to tell her what's happening."

"You've been writing every day! Come on, just let me see one of her letters! If it's all about Harry, what do you have to hide?" Ginny teased.

"Don't be stupid, Ginny. You don't go around reading other people's owls!"

"Why not? She's saying the same things to you that she's saying to me, right? That she's glad to be with her parents, but would rather be here...that she's worried about Harry and she's been reading loads of books about losing someone you love. That's all she's writing to you, right?"

Ron's ears were beginning to take on a red glow, and Ginny knew she was getting to him. She hadn't been around six older brothers her entire life without learning how to get under their skins.

"Get off it, Ginny. You're not going anywhere near my letters from Hermione," he said defensively.

"All right, then," Ginny said cheerfully. "I'll just write to her and ask what's going on. You know, we _are_ girlfriends...we tell each other everything!" She smiled.

"That's a brilliant idea," said a hoarse voice from the bed in the middle of the room.

"Harry!" Ginny exclaimed, hurrying over to his bedside. It was the first time she had seen him awake since he had arrived at headquarters five days before.

"Harry!" Ron echoed, going to the other side of the bed. "How are you, mate? It's about time you woke up."

Harry smiled at his two friends, the first real smile on his face since the beginning of the summer. "I'm...a bit thirsty, actually."

Ginny hurried off to get Harry a glass of water, and Ron rolled his eyes. "I see how it's going to be, then. You get to lie around and we get to do all the work. Right. What else can I get for you, sir?"

Harry grinned again. "Well," he said, pretending to think about it, "I could use some good reading material. Been writing any letters lately?"

Ron gaped at him. Here they had all been, worried sick about Harry since the beginning of the holidays, and the first thing he says to Ron is to tease him about letters from Hermione?

"I’m only joking," Harry said, actually enjoying Ron's disbelief. It felt good to be with his friends, to be talking about something fun rather than the dark, foreboding topics he had discussed with Remus and Dumbledore since he had woken up. The dreamless sleep potion Remus had given him had done him a world of good. For the first time all summer, he had been able to sleep restfully and peacefully for close to ten hours...no voices, no nightmares, just blissfully quiet sleep. To wake up in the middle of a playful row between Ron and Ginny made him feel that much better.

Ginny came back into the room with a tall glass of water, closely followed by Mrs. Weasley, who had a kind smile on her motherly face.

"Harry, dear," she said, stooping to give him a gentle hug. "Did you sleep well?"

"Yes, thanks, Mrs. Weasley." Harry took a sip of the water Ginny offered him and found that, rather than making him feel sick as it had when he was at the Dursleys, it felt cool and refreshing going down his throat. He was still very weak, though, and his hands shook so that the water spilled a bit. Mrs. Weasley took the glass from him.

"There now, let's just take it one step at a time, shall we?" She turned to the side table and picked up the steaming plate of sausage and eggs she had made for him that morning. It was still hot and fresh due to the warming charm she had cast. "How about a spot of breakfast, then?"

"Breakfast!" Ron snorted. "Mum, it's five o'clock at night!"

"I know that, dear," Mrs. Weasley answered him. "But Harry's only just awake. I thought that breakfast food might still sound good. Does it, Harry?"

Harry suddenly looked uncertain. "Uh, thanks, Mrs. Weasley," he answered hesitantly. "But I don't think I can eat all that much." He still didn't feel hungry, although the potions that Madam Pomfrey had given him had restored quite a lot of his strength.

"Nonsense," Mrs. Weasley said sternly, remembering her vow that she would get him healthy again, no matter what. "Harry, you must eat. You don't have to eat much to start, but I insist you eat no less than half of what is on this plate. Those potions help you feel stronger, but every body needs good meals to stay strong and healthy." She sounded almost like the mother of a three-year-old who has refused to eat anything but chocolate. "Now," she said, "You just name what sounds good to you, and I'll have it made in a jiffy."

Harry remembered what Professor Lupin had said that morning about Mrs. Weasley's determination to feed him, and knew that this was a battle he would not win. "This looks fine, Mrs. Weasley. Thanks." He reached for the plate, but to his surprise, Ginny took it from her mother and held it slightly away from him.

"Don't be silly, Harry. You need help," she said gently, sounding remarkably like her mother.

"I can lift a fork, can't I?" said Harry indignantly.

"Ginny, Harry's not going to let you feed him like some invalid," Ron said, laughing. "Why don't we help him sit up a bit straighter and put the plate in his lap?"

"Quite right," Mrs. Weasley said approvingly. She added more pillows behind Harry's back, and took the plate from Ginny, settling it squarely on Harry's thin legs. "Now eat up, Harry."

Harry could tell Ginny was embarrassed, and he wanted to keep the conversation light. "Thanks anyway, Ginny. If I ever need someone to feed me, though, you'll be the first person I ask?" He blushed suddenly. What on earth had made him say that? He glanced sideways at Ginny and saw that she was blushing too.

"I'd better, erm..." she stammered, her cheeks flaming, "go send an owl to Hermione. You know, so she'll know you're better." Ginny left the room quickly, Ron's astonished gaze following her out.

"What in the world was that all about?" Ron said wonderingly, and exchanged a glance with Harry that plainly said, " _Girls_."

Mrs. Weasley was beginning to have an idea what was happening, but she held her peace. Ginny and Harry would have to figure this one out on their own. "Right, Harry," she said firmly, settling back into the old armchair. " _Eat_."

* * *

Half an hour later, Molly nearly ploughed over Remus Lupin as she came out of Harry's room with his plate and glass. Knowing that Ron and Ginny would be with Harry when he woke up and that seeing his friends would be good for Harry, Remus had finally gone up to his third-floor bedroom to get a much-needed rest.

"Remus!" Molly said, stopping short and almost dropping the dishes. "Did you have a good rest? You look better." He did look better. The bags under his eyes had diminished and they seemed to be a bit brighter and less sad than they had been before.

"I did, Molly, thank you. I see you finally got Harry to eat something," he said, indicating the plate.

"Yes," Molly said in relief. "He couldn't eat all of it, but he managed about half of his eggs, a piece of sausage, and some toast."

"That's wonderful," Remus smiled, knowing how important it was to Molly that Harry begin to eat normally. He lowered his voice. "How does he seem? He hasn't had any...problems...since he woke up, then?"

"No," answered Molly. "He seemed happy to see Ron and Ginny, and he and Ron have been arguing about Quidditch again. I take that as a good sign."

"It is indeed."

"I told the children to keep the conversation light for now. Harry doesn't need to be made to talk about his experiences until he is considerably stronger."

"That is probably a good idea. He will talk to them when he is ready to do so."

Molly nodded. "Are you going in to see him now?"

"Yes," Remus answered. "Tomorrow's the full moon, so I wanted to spend as much time with Harry as I can before I have to leave for a couple of days."

Molly nodded again, feeling pity for Remus as she always did when the full moon came. She had heard that werewolf transformations were extremely painful, and knew that the man hated what he became once a month. "Have you been taking the Wolfsbane potion this week?"

"Yes, Severus has been kind enough to provide it for me. I've never been much at potions. Tomorrow night I will go up into my room and sleep away the time as a wolf, but I won't be allowing Harry or anyone else to see me, just in case." He shuddered.

They both jumped a bit when they heard a large crack coming from Harry's room as the twins apparated there from the kitchen, where they had arrived from the fire in their shop on Diagon Alley. Molly smiled. She was used to her sons' choice of professions now, even proud of them, and knew that their boisterous presence could only cheer Harry up even more. Nothing was dull when Fred and George were around.

"Have you spoken to Arthur today?" Remus asked.

"Not today. He's been dealing with some situation involving a Muggle eclectic lamp enchanted so it gives anyone near it a bad sunburn."

Remus grimaced. Anti-muggle pranks had been on the rise lately and had become more vicious, from what he could gather from Arthur's news from his job in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office at the Ministry of Magic. "I'm sure he'll get everything sorted out; he always does."

Their conversation came to an abrupt halt at the sound of a hoarse yell from inside Harry's bedroom. Remus pushed past Molly and hurried into the room, expecting to find Harry in the throes of another mental attack from Voldemort. Instead, he was surprised to find Fred, George, and Ron doubled over in silent laughter as Harry rubbed his nose with one hand and held a struggling china teacup in the other, his lap covered in tea. He had shouted only in surprise and slight pain from the teacup's bite. Now that he had recovered from the shock, he was grinning.

"That was wicked!" he complimented the twins. "I had no idea you made one of these. It’s better than the Zonko's one, too."

"Fred! George!" Everyone turned at the sound of Mrs. Weasley's furious voice from the doorway. "What in the world were you thinking? Harry needs rest. He is in no condition to play test dummy for your joke shop!"

"Sorry, Mum," said George, plainly struggling to keep a straight face. "We just thought he could do with a bit of a laugh."

"Then tell him a joke! Honestly, where is your sense of responsibility? You come in here where Harry is still lying sick in bed, and you play this kind of prank on him! He needs his rest! Now all of you, OUT!" She bellowed the last word, and knowing that she was going to keep ranting at them if they stayed, Fred and George apparated with another loud crack.

"You too, Ron! I can't believe you let them do this! Now go and find something to do until dinner, and leave Harry to his rest."

"But, Mum —"

"No buts, Ronald Weasley. I want you out of this room. Now!" With a disgusted look at his mother, Ron left to go find Ginny. He had some of his own teasing to do now.

"Harry, dear, are you all right? Did you get burned?"

"No, Mrs. Weasley," answered Harry, still grinning. "I reckon they made sure the tea was cool before they gave it to me."

"All right, dear. Why don't you have a rest for a while, then. I'll bring you up a spot of dinner in a couple of hours. Remus, will you stay until then?" Remus nodded, and took his usual place in the old armchair. Molly picked up the dishes again and left to go do a bit of housework and start on dinner.

"Do you need sleep, Harry?" Remus asked him after he had helped Harry change into another pair of pajama pants and given him a dry blanket.

"No, I'm not tired. Was one of those potions you gave me this morning for dreamless sleep?"

Remus nodded. "Sorry, Harry, but I thought you could use a real bit of rest."

"Thanks," Harry said softly. He was still feeling happier than he had in weeks, but seeing his former professor brought back some of the pain he had forgotten while he was joking around with the Weasleys.

Remus began, "Harry — "just as Harry said, "Professor -"

Harry gestured that Remus should go first. He began, "Harry, how about if we drop the 'Professor' bit. I haven't been your teacher in over two years. You may call me Remus...or even 'Moony' if you prefer."

Harry smiled slightly at him. It would be strange to call his old professor by his first name, but he knew it was something he could get used to. "Okay...Moony," he said, trying it out. He found he liked the sound of it.

Remus patted him on the arm. "There, that wasn't so hard, now was it?" he said lightly. "Now, there is something I would like you to know, and to agree to."

Harry was curious. What was it that Moony wanted him to agree to? "Okay," he said.

"Sirius, like all of the members of the Order, had a will, and he was very definite on a few points."

At the mention of Sirius, Harry's slight grin faded completely to be replaced by the sad look Remus had already come to know all too well.

"I know it's hard, kid. But you need to know a few things."

Harry nodded that he should go on, knowing that there was nothing he could say to make Moony stop talking about Sirius.

"The most important thing he wrote in his will had to do with you."

"With me?" Harry asked.

"Yes...concerning your guardianship."

Harry was surprised. He knew Sirius was his godfather, of course, but he had always thought the Dursleys were his guardians. He must have had a confused look on his face, because Remus continued, "Yes, the Dursleys have always taken care of you, if you could call it that," he paused, trying to quell the anger he always felt at the thought of the Dursleys. "But in the magical world, wills are binding and cannot be questioned. In your parents' will, they specified that Sirius was to be your guardian if anything happened to them. Sirius signed the will, and that made it binding. Sirius was your legal guardian, even though you had to live with the Dursleys all those years. Even if he hadn't been sent to Azkaban," Remus and Harry both winced, "Even if he had been free, you most likely would still have had to go to the Dursleys, for your own protection."

Harry nodded; he knew all about the blood protection now, and since Sirius hadn't been related to him by blood, it would not have been in effect if Harry had stayed with him. Still, he couldn't help but wonder how different things would have been if Sirius had been around while he was growing up.

"In Sirius's will, he specified that if anything were to happen to him, I would become your guardian, and I agreed."

Harry stared at him. This was certainly not what he had expected when Remus said he wanted to talk to him, mainly because he had not known that Sirius was legally responsible for him. When he thought about it, though, it made sense. Remus was Sirius's closest friend and was the last remaining Marauder, because no one considered Peter Pettigrew to be one anymore.

"Harry, I am now legally your guardian until you reach the age of seventeen. I signed Sirius's will, and it is a binding magical contract. However, I wanted to see what you thought of it. If you would rather the Weasleys..." his voice trailed off.

"No, Moony," Harry cut in. "You were my dad’s and Sirius’s best friend. If Sirius wanted you to be my guardian, then that is what I want, too. Only..."

"Only what, Harry?"

"Only, do I have to go back to the Dursleys? Voldemort got to me there, you know he did, so I don't know what protection they still offer me. Maybe after Voldemort took my blood in the graveyard fourth year, it doesn't work anymore or something."

Remus sighed. He certainly didn't want Harry to have to go back to Privet Drive, but he knew that he could not promise that he wouldn't have to go back. "Let's cross that bridge when we come to it, all right? I just don't know the answer to that question."

Harry nodded. It was the answer he had expected, even if it was not the one he had hoped for.

"There's also the question of Sirius's personal belongings and his money," Remus continued, wanting to get the subject off of the Dursleys.

"His money?" Harry asked blankly. He had known that Sirius's family had been wealthy, but he had never even given it a thought.

"He left you everything, Harry," Remus said with a trace of a smile. "Well, almost everything. He left a tidy sum of gold for me, and some for the Weasleys. But you were his main beneficiary."

"But I don't need Sirius's money," Harry protested. "My parents already left me more than I need." Talking about Sirius's fortune had made Harry feel like he had profited off Sirius's death, and it was an uncomfortable feeling.

"Harry, I know how you feel. I felt the same way when I first found out what he had left for me," Remus said softly. "However, if you don't accept the inheritance, it will automatically go to his next of kin. In this case, that means that the Black fortune would be split between the Malfoys and the Lestranges."

"No!" exclaimed Harry. "Sirius would never have wanted that."

"Precisely, which is why he left everything to you. You are a wealthy man now, Harry. And I know that would make Sirius happy — he wanted to make sure you were always taken care of."

Harry nodded, knowing that he had little choice. He could never let Narcissa Malfoy and Bellatrix Lestrange get their hands on anything that had belonged to his godfather.

"The money has been left in trust for you at Gringotts until you come of age. All you need to do to access it is talk to me. I'm the executor."

"I don't think I'll need it for a long time. I still have most of the money my parents left me."

"That's fine, Harry. Just know it is there if you need it, and that you have nothing to feel bad about in using it. This is what Sirius wanted."

Harry cast about for a change of subject. He couldn't bear to talk about Sirius any longer. "So, when am I allowed to get out of bed?" he asked.

"Madam Pomfrey will come tomorrow morning to check you out. She'll let us know, but I daresay it won't be too long now that you're getting your strength back."

Harry nodded, but the talk about Sirius's will had made the lead weight in his heart grow even heavier than it had been before, and he felt the despair rising up inside of him again. Almost as if it had been waiting for Harry to feel this way, his scar suddenly burned like fire, and he clapped his hands over it, what color he had draining from his face.

Remus started and stood up quickly, grabbing Harry's chin and forcing the boy's troubled eyes to look up into his own. "Harry, look at me...Harry, are you all right?"

Harry's eyes rolled back up into his head, and his entire body started to tremble. Lupin sat down on the bed next to him and took him by both his shoulders.

"Harry, fight this! You have to fight it. Listen to me! It's Moony, I'm here with you. You're going to be all right, but you have to fight!"

Harry could vaguely hear Moony's voice, but his words were drowned out in the hateful hiss that now filled his mind. " _The werewolf will be next, Potter. Are you ready? And after that, it will be the Mudblood and the blood traitors. None will survive...they will all die at my hand...I look forward to it. Oh yes, the pleasure of taking them down is something I have been anticipating for a long time...almost as much as the pleasure of destroying you. Give yourself up, Potter, and I may spare their lives..._ "

Harry's entire body jerked, and Remus watched, horrified, as Harry began to moan, "No...you can have me...but leave...them...alone..."

"Harry, no!" Remus shouted, desperate to get through to him. "Fight! Push him out of your mind. It's all a trick, Harry! Don't give him what he wants! Fight it!" He shook Harry's shoulders slightly as Harry tossed his head back and forth, his scar feeling like it was going to burn a hole straight through his head.

" _It is all down to you, Potter. Your godfather did not have to die. If you had only given me what I wanted, he would never have had to come for you. It is your love of playing the hero that killed him...do not be so foolish again. You will never defeat me_."

"Harry!" Remus shouted again, terrified of what this attack was doing to him. "Fight it, Harry. You're stronger than this! You have to fight!"

The attack lifted as suddenly as it had begun, and Harry fell back onto his pillows, completely limp, his eyes closed. Remus took a cool cloth from a bowl of water and mopped Harry's sweaty forehead with it. Harry had fainted.

Remus never heard the soft whimper coming from the door, which had been left open a crack. Ginny Weasley stood on the other side of it with a deck of Exploding Snap cards in her hand, her face white and tears running down her cheeks. She had come just in time to see the whole thing.


	9. Learning the Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Ginny's observation of the true extent of Harry's difficulties, she consults Ron for some answers, and Ron shows himself to be up to the task. Meanwhile, the Order visits and Arthur shoes that sometimes a good game of chess is all that's needed to clear someone's mind.

> _Hermione,_
> 
> _I saw Harry awake for the first time this morning. He seems all right. Mum said he got sick and couldn't eat, and those Muggles didn't even notice that anything was wrong with him. I don't understand why Harry has to go back there every summer. But Mum says there's no other choice. At least he's here with us now, and they are not going to send him back this holiday._
> 
> _We all wish you were here. We could really use your brains trying to figure everything out with Harry. I know you are happy to be home, but do you reckon your parents would let you come to visit?_
> 
> _Ginny's starting to suspect something's up with you and me. She's always on about it. Will you please tell her nothing's happening so she'll leave me alone? This is between us for now, right?_
> 
> _Everyone else is doing okay here. Send your new owl back when you get a chance._
> 
> _Ron_

Just as Ron was rolling up the small scroll of parchment to send to Hermione, he heard a soft knock at his door. He groaned inwardly; he knew it would be Ginny wanting to tease him for writing to Hermione again. He hastily attached the letter to Pig's leg and opened the window to send the owl on his way.

When he opened the door he was not at all surprised to see Ginny, but it was immediately apparent that she had not come to tease him. Her hand was clasped tightly around a pack of Exploding Snap cards, and she was shaking, her face pale white and tearstained.

"Ginny?" Ron asked in confusion.

"Ron —" she began, but the tears welled up in her eyes again and she could not seem to form any other words. He led her into the room and she sat on the edge of the bed Harry had slept in the previous summer.

"Blimey, Ginny, what's the matter?" Ron asked. He didn't think it could be about Harry — they had left him less than an hour ago and he had been doing well, almost back to normal. Maybe it was about Dean. Ron had never approved of that relationship, but Ginny hadn't talked about Dean since before Harry had arrived, so Ron really didn't know what to think.

"I saw...something was happening..." Ginny struggled with her words, her fear showing plainly on her face. "Harry...having a dream or something...I don't know."

So it _was_ about Harry. Ron felt a jolt of fear for his best friend. He had seen Harry go through a lot and had been right beside him most of the time. But this time, Harry seemed almost unreachable, as if whatever was plaguing him was inside of him rather than a threat from the outside, a threat from Voldemort. Ron wondered if Sirius’s death and everything Harry had to go through the past five years was finally pushing his friend past his breaking point.

"What is it?" Ron asked softly.

Ginny sniffed and wiped her eyes on the sleeve of her t-shirt. She could _not_ fall apart. It was obvious that Harry needed them more than he ever had. "I went to his room to see if he wanted a game of cards," she started. "I sort of thought he might like the distraction, since I heard Mum sending you, Fred, and George out."

"Yeah, Fred and George gave Harry one of their biting teacups. Mum wasn't too thrilled about that," Ron said.

"Right," Ginny said, taking a deep breath. "Anyway, the door was open a bit, and Professor Lupin was talking to Harry. I was just about to knock when Harry grabbed at his head all of a sudden, and Lupin starting shaking him and shouting."

"Lupin was shouting at Harry?" Ron was confused. That didn't seem like the even-tempered professor that he had come to know.

"Harry's eyes rolled back like he was having a fit, but then he started...talking, I guess, but his voice didn't sound right."

"What did he say?"

"He said something like 'you can have me, but leave them alone.' Ron, what did he mean by that? Who was he talking to? Lupin kept shouting at him to fight it, but I don't understand. Fight what?"

Ron bit his lip, thinking hard. Pieces of the puzzle were starting to fall into place, and he wished that Hermione were there to help him sort this out. She would have figured it out immediately! Harry becoming so sick on Privet Drive that he couldn't eat, Dumbledore spending every spare moment in Harry's room, the haunted look in Harry's eyes, and the fact that the adults in the house would not let Harry be alone even for a second, even when he was sleeping. "You-Know-Who," he muttered. How could he have been so stupid? How could he have not seen what was happening to his best friend?

"What?" Ginny jumped off the bed and began to pace. "Ron, what are you talking about? You-Know-Who, _here_? You’re barking mad!"

"Ginny, shut up for a second and let me think!" The wards around Privet Drive, coupled with the blood protection from Harry's aunt, should have been enough to keep Harry safe from any kind of attack from You-Know-Who or the Death Eaters. But what if it wasn't? What if You-Know-Who had been able to break into Harry's mind the way he had done when he tricked Harry into going to the Department of Mysteries? This was bad...it was much worse than Ron had suspected, and he didn't like to think of what Harry had been trying to deal with all alone on Privet Drive. Of course, Harry didn't like to tell people what he was feeling...he always thought that he had to go it alone...stupid prat!

Ron screwed his face up in thought, and Ginny waited a moment before she broke in. "Want to clue the rest of us in on what's happening?"

Ron hesitated. Harry had never been as open with Ginny as he was with Ron and Hermione, but without Hermione there, Ron needed someone else to talk to. He noticed then, for the first time, that Ginny was hardly a little girl anymore. She was going into her fifth year, after all, and Ron thought of all the things he, Harry, and Hermione had been through by the time they reached fifth year. Perhaps he could confide in Ginny about this.

"Ginny, you know how we found out that Harry's dream, or vision, or whatever you call it, about Sirius in the Department of Mysteries was a trick?"

"Yeah," said Ginny slowly. "You-Know-Who made him think Sirius was in trouble to get him to come."

"Right. Harry said Dumbledore reckoned that You-Know-Who had figured out that Harry could break into his mind after Harry saw the attack on Dad." Ron shuddered. He still didn't like to think of that. "And he also figured out that if Harry could break into his mind, he could do the same thing."

"You-Know-Who can read Harry's _mind_?"

"Sort of," Ron answered thoughtfully, wishing again that Hermione was here to sort through all of this with him. "Snape was trying to teach Harry how to block him, but it never really worked. Harry kept having the dreams and until the thing with Sirius happened, we all kind of thought it was a good thing, because, you know, Harry saved Dad's life with it...we couldn't understand why everyone wanted it to stop."

"If it hadn't been for Harry, Dad would have died," Ginny whispered.

"Yeah," said Ron almost as softly. "But Ginny, I think that You-Know-Who has been getting into Harry's head again. I think that is what made him so sick. Maybe that’s why he couldn't eat or sleep properly."

"But You-Know-Who can't get to him when he's on Privet Drive!" Ginny exclaimed. "That's why he has to go there!"

"I know that, Ginny...but what if he found a way to do it?"

"Maybe Harry's only having nightmares again," Ginny suggested. "Who wouldn't, after all he's been through?"

"Was Harry asleep when went all...strange?" Ron couldn't think of a better way to put it. That was Hermione's department.

"No," Ginny answered, her face starting to register even more fear than before. "No, he was awake, talking to Professor Lupin. He looked okay, and then...and then he..." Against her will, Ginny's eyes started to fill again as she thought of the scene she had witnessed.

"His dreams almost always happened late at night, after he had been asleep for a bit," Ron answered. "I know that because I was usually there when they happened, since we share a dormitory. If you say he wasn't asleep at all, then I don't know how it could have been one of his dreams. Even when he had the dream about Sirius, it was when he had dozed off in his History of Magic O.W.L."

"Ron, I'm scared," Ginny said, the slightest trace of panic in her soft voice.

"Me too," Ron answered, somewhat astonished with himself that he would mention his fear to his sister.

"How can we help him?"

"I don't know. He seemed okay when we were all in his room, making jokes and talking about Quidditch and stuff. I think right now we just need to be there for him."

Ginny nodded. What her brother said made sense, and she couldn't help but notice how much more intelligent and understanding Ron seemed when he wasn't being overshadowed by Harry's heroism and Hermione's brain. As Ron got up to write another letter to Hermione, she made a promise to herself that she would help Harry through this. She was sick of watching on the sidelines as her brother and even Hermione bumbled their way around Harry. He needed someone to take care of him, and he had saved her life in her first year. She owed it to him.

* * *

"Harry, dear," Mrs. Weasley called cheerfully as she entered his room. "You have some visit-"She broke off suddenly. Harry was curled into a ball under his covers, clearly asleep, and Remus Lupin was sitting on the edge of his bed, one hand on Harry's thin shoulder, the other covering his own eyes.

She crossed the room quickly, and Nymphadora Tonks, Alastor Moody, and Arthur Weasley came into the room after her, halting when they saw the scene. Harry looked almost as drained as he had when he had first arrived at headquarters, and the peaceful look he had worn when he was talking to the Weasley children had vanished. He looked drawn and pale again, and his forehead and fringe were damp from sweat.

"Remus?" Molly put a hand on his arm. "What's happened? Is Harry all right?"

Remus looked up at her, his eyes sad and worried. "He's all right now, Molly. Voldemort's broken into his mind again. I saw it happen."

"But the wards," Arthur protested feebly. "How could You-Know-Who get past the wards? How could he find Harry?"

"I don't know, Arthur," answered Remus. "All I can think is that maybe Voldemort no longer needs to know Harry's location to break into his mind."

Tonks interrupted. "But time and space matter in Legilimency! It's one of the basic principles...if Voldemort didn't know where Harry was, how could he find him to break into his mind?"

Alastor Moody answered in his gruff voice, "If Voldemort could find Harry here, the place would be swarming with Death Eaters." He suddenly looked suspiciously at the people gathered in Harry's room.

"The same could be said about Privet Drive, Moody," Remus reminded him. "And from what Harry has said, I have to assume the same thing happened there. Voldemort must have at least found a way around the wards mentally, even if he couldn't get to him physically."

"The boy has got to learn Occlumency," Moody growled. "Right quickly, too."

"Dumbledore is coming every morning starting tomorrow to work with him on that," Molly answered. "If anyone can teach Harry all he needs to know in a short amount of time, it's Dumbledore."

The others nodded in agreement. Harry's eyes began to flutter, and the attention in the room snapped to him as though attached to a rubber band.

"Wotcher, Harry," said Tonks, trying to sound like her cheerful self and failing miserably. Harry's eyes widened as he saw the five people surrounding his bed, looking at him like he were some kind of exhibit.

"Erm, hi,” he said hoarsely.

"Harry, how do you feel?" Molly asked him gently, giving him a soft hug as he struggled into a sitting position and reached for his glasses.

"All right," answered Harry. He noticed Moony looking askance at him, but thankfully he didn't say a word, holding himself to what he had said to Harry — that he could put up whatever kind of front he wanted for the others.

"Is there anything you need?" Remus asked in a businesslike tone.

"No," Harry said, looking down at his fingers, which were working the bedcovers nervously.

"Do you need a potion for your headache?" Remus prodded quietly. "You have to take your others as well, so it would only be one more."

Harry nodded, still not pulling his eyes up to look at the group.

Remus went to the dresser and pulled three small bottles out of the assortment. "Harry, this one is the Strengthening Potion, this one is the Nutritive Potion, and this one will help your headache, okay? Nothing fancy this time." Harry knew he was referring to the Dreamless Sleep Potion that he had been given that morning. He was almost tempted to ask for another dose of that, but he remembered from Potions class that an overdose of that could put him into an irreversible sleep.

As Harry drank his potions, the adults in the room let out a collective sigh of relief as the color returned immediately to Harry's face and his eyes lost some of their dullness as his headache vanished.

"How are you feeling, son?" Arthur asked, calling him "son" automatically. He was not as demonstrative as Molly, but he also thought of Harry as one of his own children.

"Better, thanks, Mr. Weasley," Harry answered, his voice sounding less hoarse and more like the voice they were used to. "Those potions really work fast." He attempted to smile at them, but the smile did not reach his green eyes.

"Excellent!" exclaimed Tonks, recovering some of her normal exuberance. "Madam Pomfrey's pretty good, isn't she? I remember when I was at school I got in the way of a bad hair-growing jinx. I looked like an old man by the time I got to her, hair everywhere, but she set me to rights in seconds."

"Yeah," Harry agreed. "She's really great."

"Harry, dear," Molly said. "Professor Dumbledore will be here tomorrow to start working with you on your Occlumency. We'll have this taken care of before you know it, so you just hang in there."

"Thanks, Mrs. Weasley," Harry answered, looking down at his hands again. Even though he felt better, he could not forget Voldemort's threats on the people he held dearest. He really had no right to expect help from them; they were in danger just by being near him.

Remus seemed to read Harry's mind, and he said, "Harry, we are all here to help you, like it or not. There's just not anything you can do about it."

"Right," said Arthur determinedly. Tonks, Molly, and even Moody nodded their agreement.

"I think that Harry's probably ready for dinner," Molly proclaimed, looking at him with narrowed eyes. Harry could almost see her daring him to argue with her statement. "I've got a treacle tart baking. I know it's your favorite."

Harry nodded.

"Remus, Tonks, Alastor, would you like to come and help in the kitchen?" Molly asked, although it wasn't really a request. Remus needed some time to recover from what he had seen Harry going through, and Molly knew that Harry was not yet close to Tonks or Moody and probably preferred to be with someone more familiar right now. "Arthur can stay here with Harry. All right?" Lupin looked very reluctant to leave Harry's side, but he agreed. They followed Molly out of the room, leaving Arthur behind with Harry.

As they were closing the door behind them, they heard Arthur ask, "How about a game of chess, Harry? Ron says you're quite good even though you can't beat him. Don't worry about it; I can't beat him either." Molly was relieved; she thought that Harry could use a calm diversion from such serious conversation, and she was right in thinking that Arthur would be just the person to provide him with it. He had always had a way of helping his children cope with difficulties without overwhelming them with conversation, and she hoped the same would be true for Harry.


	10. Occlumency Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Under Dumbledore's gentler - and more effective - manner of occlumency instruction, Harry finds that he is able to make a beginning at protecting his mind from attack. Though it's not quite enough to keep Voldemort out yet, he knows he has turned a corner and that, with time, he will be strong enough to protect himself.

"Think of it as similar to building a fortress or a castle," Dumbledore coached as Harry sat in a straight-backed chair brought up from the kitchen, his eyes closed tightly. Sirius’s bedroom was lit only by three candles on the dresser because Professor Dumbledore wanted Harry to start his training with as few distractions as possible – they would work up to a point at which Harry would be able to close his mind in any environment.  
  
"Concentrate on the walls to your fortress brick by brick, making certain there are no cracks. Can you see your wall?"  
  
Harry nodded almost imperceptibly.  
  
"Think about the door to your fortress. It should be a strong door, not easily penetrated by enemies."  
  
"The door to Hogwarts," Harry mumbled, visualizing the huge doors which made the school seem at once welcoming and secure.  
  
Dumbledore smiled slightly."Yes, that is good, Harry."  
  
"Now, if you have your fortress built, see yourself walking up to the door. Set a password in your mind. Only you may enter and none other."  
  
Dumbledore saw Harry's lips move silently. _He is truly a remarkable boy_ , Dumbledore thought. The old Headmaster had rarely seen anyone take so easily to meditation on their first try. He knew that Harry wanted very badly to succeed, and that was half the battle.  
  
"When you have gone through the door, walk through your fortress. Notice how strong the walls are, impenetrable to attack. Follow the hallways to the deepest, most secure room. Leave your thoughts there, under lock and key. If you have succeeded, no one will be able to access your thoughts but you." Dumbledore knew that his explanation of the mental defenses had been simple, but he did not want to overwhelm Harry on their first day. Once Harry had the basic idea, they could strengthen his defenses further. "Are you ready to try it?"  
  
Harry nodded, his eyes still shut tight. A few moments later, to his great surprise, he felt Dumbledore's presence in his mind, gently probing, nothing like the violent jolt he had felt last year when Snape had practiced on him. Harry's surprise was so great that he did not even try to resist. A voice spoke in his head, the memory of Voldemort’s attack on the previous evening:  
  
" _The werewolf will be the next to die..._ "  
  
"No!" Harry shouted, and the voice stopped abruptly as Dumbledore left his mind. Harry had not forced him out, but the Headmaster wanted to start slowly. When Harry became upset, he lifted the spell voluntarily. Also, Dumbledore had been somewhat shaken by the voice in Harry's memory – he had known that Harry's mind was being attacked, but hearing it for himself was a different story.  
  
"How did you do that?" Harry asked blankly, looking at Dumbledore, who was gazing at him through his half-moon glasses with an inscrutable expression on his face. "You never even said the incantation. I wasn't ready." He had not wanted the Headmaster to hear what Voldemort had said. He didn't want anyone to have to hear that.  
  
"Professor Snape is an extremely accomplished Occlumens, Harry, but his legilimency skills are minor compared to those of Voldemort or even myself. A skilled Legilimens can enter your mind without an incantation, even without your knowledge. With your very unusual situation, Harry, you must always be on your guard. You must, in effect, practice Occlumency constantly."  
  
Harry felt tired just thinking about it. "Professor," he said softly. "I don't know if I can."  
  
"You can, Harry, because you must. One of the things I have always admired about you is that you always find a way to accomplish what you need to do. This will not be an exception. It is not an easy task, but in time you will be able to accomplish it automatically."  
  
"How am I going to be able to concentrate on occlumency all the time?" Harry asked. "It takes my whole mind just to imagine my fortress, much less try to keep Voldemort out. How will I do other things at the same time?"  
  
"You will not be able to at first, Harry. At first, you will live your life as you normally do, but as soon as you feel Voldemort enter your mind, go back to your fortress of thoughts and slam the door closed. You will become better at this as we practice. And Harry, please remember that Voldemort is baiting you with the things he says. He is trying to trick you into coming to him and making the job easier. You must not give in, Harry. As you grow stronger at occlumency, you will be able to push him from your mind, and you must not let your pain and your fear stop you from doing so."  
  
Harry's eyes, which had strayed downward as he thought of what he would have to do, snapped up to the Headmaster. He did not know what to say to the look of sadness which crossed the old man's face.  
  
"It is natural to fear losing those we love, Harry, especially in times like these. It is nothing to be ashamed of."  
  
"But it's not just losing them, sir. My friends are in danger just because they are close to me."  
  
"Your love and concern for your friends is one of your greatest attributes, Harry, but their loyalty to you is unwavering. Pushing them away will not make a difference to the amount of danger they might find themselves in, because they will continue to care for you, just as you will for them. Keep them close," Dumbledore advised gently. He knew his young student was tempted to withdraw from his friends to try and keep them safe. What Harry didn't realize was that if he did so, it would only increase the danger, for guilt and heartache were a gateway to dark magic.  
  
Harry did not want to talk about his friends, for at the thought of the danger they were in sadness welled up in him and he knew that he would lose control. "Sir, I think I'm ready to try again," he said.  
  
"Very well, Harry. Prepare yourself." Harry closed his eyes again and felt Dumbledore's gentle presence almost immediately. He concentrated with all his might on closing the doors to his thoughts and denying entrance to his mind. He could feel himself start to sweat as he pushed against the invasion. A few moments later, the pressure lifted, and Harry opened his eyes to find Dumbledore looking at him again, a mixture of pride and satisfaction on his face.  
  
"That was excellent, Harry. We have made a good beginning," he praised. "Now, what I would like for you to do is to take a few moments several times each day to shore up your mind, to make it stronger. This is especially important right before you fall asleep, for that is when you are most vulnerable to attack."  
  
Harry nodded. This was not so different from what Snape had told him to do when they had practiced occlumency during fifth year, although Snape had not told him how to do it.  
  
"Now, Harry, before I return to Hogwarts, is there anything you would like to discuss? Anything you need to ask?"  
  
Harry was startled. It was very rare that Professor Dumbledore gave him that kind of invitation, especially since he had spent most of the previous year avoiding Harry's eyes and refusing to speak with him at all. However rare it might have been, though, Harry had no desire to confide in the Headmaster. "No, sir," he answered.  
  
Dumbledore sighed. He knew that the rapport he had once shared with Harry had all but shattered during the previous school year. He was glad Harry still trusted him enough to learn Occlumency from him. Trust between teacher and student was essential in this branch of magic, but he wished the boy would confide in him. He wanted nothing more than to help Harry with the immense burden on his young shoulders, and he would help him, but it would be much easier to do so if Harry would let him back into his heart.

* * *

Two days later, Harry was finally free to walk about the house. He was still somewhat weak, but Madam Pomfrey had visited and decided that Harry was well enough to move, and that some exercise would actually speed his recovery. Harry was glad; he was tired of his bedroom and the gloominess that seemed to settle over everyone when they came and saw him trapped in bed.  
  
Ginny had spent more time with him than anyone else, owing mostly to her resolve that she would be there to help him. They passed most of their time playing Exploding Snap or Gobstones, and she was one of the few members of the household who did not pressure him to talk about his feelings. She simply sat with him and tried to keep his mind off things, hurrying to get him anything he needed. Harry was surprised to find that he liked spending so much time with her – she was easy to be with.  
  
His occlumency lessons with the Headmaster had continued each morning, and after only three lessons, Dumbledore had complimented Harry on his progress. He was now able to push the old wizard out of his mind completely, but he still had to have time to prepare his defenses before he was able to block intrusions. He practiced each day, but it had not been enough to stop the next attack on his mind. He had felt the searing pain in his scar only half a second before hearing the voice that haunted his dreams.  
  
" _Do you like the little girl, Potter? Are you starting to care for her? You cannot protect her from Lord Voldemort. She was mine once before, and she will be mine again._ "  
  
Ginny had been sitting with him when it happened, and as soon as she saw the tell-tale signs of the attack she ran to the door and screamed for her mother.  
  
Molly had her own way of dealing with the attack, and it was not in any way similar to Lupin's shaking and shouting. She had sat down on the bed with Harry and pulled his stiff body into one of her bone-crushing hugs, whispering soothingly in his ear that he was safe with her and everything was going to be all right, and she had rocked slightly back and forth as she rubbed his back. Ginny was not sure if the motherly milksop helped; it had not seemed to stop the attack any sooner than Lupin's shouting had, but she didn't question it. So far, nothing had seemed to help.  
  
After the attack, Harry had lay still on his bed for nearly two hours before Molly left the room quietly to get his dinner and force him to choke some down. She could see that Harry's body was getting stronger, and she was not about to stop until he looked the way that a fifteen-year-old boy should look. After the food and his normal round of potions, Harry had seemed better and had had a chess match with Ron as if nothing had happened.  
  
When Harry and Ron had finally walked into the cellar kitchen, nearly a week after he had arrived at headquarters, he was greeted by the smiles of the Weasleys, Tonks, and Moody. Bill jumped from the table to help Harry into a chair, and he sat down gratefully. When had it become such a long walk between the bedrooms and the kitchen?  
  
"Harry, mate, good to see you!" Fred greeted him as soon as he was seated. After the biting teacup incident, Fred and George had only been allowed in Harry's room when either Mr. or Mrs. Weasley was present to make sure they did not prank him. As a result, the twins had mostly stayed away, only popping in for a few moments each day to say hello. "Have some butterbeer!" He handed Harry a goblet, and Harry looked at it suspiciously. "No pranks this time, Harry. Mum would do her nut."  
  
Mrs. Weasley glared at Fred while the rest of the table chuckled appreciatively. Molly's temper was legendary among the inhabitants of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, but they all took it in stride. They knew that even when she was shouting, she loved them all dearly. Molly's face relaxed after a moment, and she smiled fondly at Harry. "It is good to see you up and around, dear. Dinner will be on the table in a minute, and Remus should be joining us soon."  
  
Harry took a sip of butterbeer and felt the usual sensation of his insides warming pleasantly as it went down his throat. It felt good to be drinking something besides water; because of his dehydrated state when he had arrived, Madam Pomfrey had allowed nothing else, not even pumpkin juice.  
  
Moony joined everyone at the table a few minutes later, looking as tired and haggard as he always did after the full moon, but happy to see Harry out of bed and looking better. He took the chair next to Harry and clapped him softly on the shoulder. "All right, Harry?" he asked.  
  
"All right, Moony," Harry grinned. It felt wonderful to be sitting here among his friends after the confines of Sirius’s bedroom, and in spite of his fatigue, Harry felt rather happy and content. The worries of the world seemed far away as Molly and Tonks (who only spilled a little of the gravy) set a huge supper of roast chicken, mashed potatoes, and vegetables on the long table.  
  
Molly noticed with some satisfaction that although Harry did not consume as much as Ron had, he did almost clear his plate of chicken and potatoes, and when the pudding had come out, he had taken a bit of it and seemed to enjoy it. Soon after the pudding, however, Harry's face started to grow pale and he swayed slightly in his seat as Fred and George were describing their day in the shop at Diagon Alley.  
  
Remus noticed this at the same time as Molly, and the two exchanged a glance, reaching an unspoken agreement that Remus would take Harry upstairs and sit with him tonight. "All right, everyone, say goodnight to Harry – he still needs his rest and Madam Pomfrey said to take it slowly at first," Molly proclaimed.  
  
Harry was grateful that he had not had to leave on his own – he felt it would have been rude, when everyone had come to see him and Mrs. Weasley had cooked such a good dinner. There was no denying that he felt very tired. He had not really believed Madam Pomfrey's predictions that even an hour spent sitting at table would wear him out, but now he understood how little strength he really had.  
  
"Night, mate," said Fred and George together.  
  
"Good night, Harry," said Ginny, smiling at him. "I still want that Exploding Snap rematch tomorrow."  
  
"Night, 'arry," said Ron, whose mouth was full of his fourth helping of pudding.  
  
Bill and Charlie both shook his hand briefly, and Arthur clapped his hand on Harry's shoulder. "Sleep well, Harry."  
  
Molly was the last to say goodnight. She gave him a gentle hug as he was walking out the door, whispering, "If you need anything, dear, all you have to do is ask."  
  
"Night, everyone," Harry said as Remus supported him slightly, one hand around Harry's waist. "Thanks for dinner, Mrs. Weasley, it was delicious."

* * *

Upon reaching Sirius’s bedroom, Harry took his potions, changed back into pajamas, and settled into bed comfortably, glad to see Moony take his seat in the old armchair once again.  
  
"So, how have you been these last few days, Harry?"  
  
"I've been okay," Harry answered, and then, seeing the suspicious look on Moony's face, added, "Really, Moony, I have. I'm feeling a lot better now than I was."  
  
"I'm glad to hear that, kiddo." Harry was startled. No one besides Sirius had ever called him "kiddo." Remus noticed the look on Harry’s face. "Is something wrong?"  
  
"Nothing," Harry mumbled. "It's just that...Sirius called me 'kiddo.' It was weird hearing it from someone else, that's all."  
  
Remus sighed. "I'm sorry, Harry. I didn't realize..."  
  
"It's okay," Harry said quickly. He didn't want to talk to Moony about Sirius tonight. He just didn't feel like he was ready to do that yet, and he could not bear to see his sadness mirrored in his guardian's eyes.  
  
"Do you want to talk about..."  
  
"No," Harry interrupted. "Not tonight, Moony. Please."  
  
For a moment it looked as though the older man was about to argue, but he just couldn't bring himself to force anything out of Harry at the moment. "All right, Harry," he conceded. "But when you are ready, I am here."  
  
"Thanks," Harry answered. For a few moments, they sat in uncomfortable silence, Harry looking down at his hands, Remus staring into the fire he had lit in the grate.  
  
Remus finally broke the silence. "How have your occlumency lessons been going?"  
  
Harry was glad to talk about something that did not involve Sirius. "Not bad. I think I've learned more from Professor Dumbledore in three days than I did all last year with Snape."  
  
Lupin smiled slightly. Harry sounded so much like James had when he talked about Snape. "You really should call him Professor Snape, Harry. You know that, right? I don't like him much either, but he is on our side, and he is your teacher."  
  
"Are you sure he's on our side?" Harry asked. That was something that had been bothering him since fourth year, when he had found out that Snape was a Death Eater who had changed sides in the First War.  
  
"I am certain of it," Remus answered definitely.  
  
"Why?"  
  
"That's another story for another time, Harry, but suffice it to say that no matter what my personal feelings are towards him, he is working for the Order at great risk to himself."  
  
Harry frowned. With their new openness, he had been hoping to get some information out of Moony, but one look at his guardian's face told him that this particular subject was closed. Not wanting to stray into dangerous waters tonight, Harry told Remus all about his lessons with Dumbledore, even bragging a little that he could manage to get the Headmaster out of his mind within seconds now.  
  
"That's quite an accomplishment, you know," Remus said. "Professor Dumbledore is probably the most advanced Legilimens in the wizarding world. To be able to push him out of your mind is quite a feat."  
  
Harry smiled at the praise, but clarified, "Well, I can't do it all of a sudden yet. I have to know that it is coming so I can prepare."  
  
"That is how you learn," Remus assured him. "If you keep progressing at this rate, by the end of summer, occlumency will come as naturally to you as flying a broomstick." He carefully avoided mentioning to Harry that he knew Harry had not been able to stop Voldemort's attack the previous day. In his wolf form, Remus was able to hear unusually well, and had heard Ginny's calls for her mother when it had happened.  
  
"How are you sleeping, Harry?" Moony asked this next question cautiously. He knew Harry had not woken up screaming, but he could still see hints of the black bags under the young wizard's eyes.  
  
"Okay," Harry answered.  
  
"Is that the truth, Harry?" Remus asked him firmly.  
  
Harry looked at his hands. "Well, I haven't had any visions or anything. But I keep having the same nightmare...the one about Sirius falling through the veil."  
  
It was the answer Remus had been expecting. "I know, Harry. I know," he said heavily. He briefly considered telling Harry that he had experienced similar nightmares at the beginning of the summer but decided it was just as well to leave the subject closed.  
  
"No one else knows," Harry said anxiously. "There is always someone in here with me, but usually when I wake up, they’re asleep and don't hear me. I haven't been screaming like...like I did at the Dursleys." Harry unconsciously touched the side of his face. The bruise was completely healed, but it would be a long time before Harry forgot the hatred in Uncle Vernon's eyes that night.  
  
"Harry, you have my word that what you say to me will remain with me and me only," Remus promised him. "If, for some reason, I feel it necessary to tell someone else anything you have said, I promise I will let you know before I do. All right?"  
  
Harry nodded, feeling very grateful to Lupin at that moment. No one had ever made that promise to him, not even Ron and Hermione. "Thanks," he mumbled, and Remus noticed that his eyes were beginning to droop.  
  
"I think it’s time you got some sleep, Harry," Remus told him. "I'll be here all night, so if you need me for anything, just call."  
  
Harry turned on his side, pulled his blankets up over his body, and soon fell into a deep sleep. Remus Lupin, unlike Harry's other minders, did not sleep, but simply sat with Harry, watching him. A few hours later, when the boy began mumbling and broke out into the sweat that always accompanied his nightmares, Moony was there, smoothing his hair back from his face and mopping his brow with a cool cloth. Harry did not wake, but he seemed to sleep more calmly afterwards. For that, Lupin was grateful.


	11. A Birthday in the House

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry attends his first-ever birthday party, and Petunia Dursley has something on her mind.

Relative to the first three weeks of summer, the final week before Harry's sixteenth birthday passed fairly uneventfully. Under Mrs. Weasley and Remus Lupin's watchful care, the Weasley children's moral support, and Professor Dumbledore's tutelage, Harry's physical and emotional well-being improved dramatically.  
  
Only once had Voldemort attacked Harry's mind, and because of the Headmaster's Occlumency training Harry had been able to force him out within a few seconds. The effort involved had sent him back to bed for the rest of the day, but Harry had been encouraged and even proud of himself for managing the feat.  
  
Due to Mrs. Weasley's wonderful cooking and insistence that Harry eat three square meals each day, Harry had gained enough weight that he lost the gaunt, unhealthy look he had when he had arrived. The day before Harry's birthday, Madam Pomfrey had pronounced herself satisfied that he was healthy once again, and had allowed Harry to stop taking the potions she had prescribed. She did, however, discreetly leave a few vials each of headache potion and dreamless sleep potion in Lupin's care, after he had told her quietly that Harry still had considerable trouble sleeping.  
  
The dreams had not stopped, but they rarely morphed into visions. They were simply nightmares, and while they were plenty bad enough for a normal teenager, Harry actually felt a bit of relief that Voldemort seemed to have given up trying to invade his mind. It also helped that whenever Harry woke up, he would find either Mrs. Weasley or Lupin dozing in the armchair by his bed, ready to help him if he needed it. Although he was starting to find being constantly watched a bit irritating, he had to admit to himself that when he woke in the night, he was glad they were there.  
  
Ginny and Ron were nearly always at Harry's side during the day, and he found that he did not mind their company. It felt more like they were just spending time with him like they would at Hogwarts than watching him, even though he knew that Mrs. Weasley still insisted that Harry never be alone in case of another attack. They played games, talked about school and Quidditch, wondered about O.W.L. results that would be coming for Ron and Harry soon, and even did chores around the house. Harry, of course, was not required by Mrs. Weasley to help with the chores, but he found that the mindless tasks were a welcome distraction from his troubles, so he often helped Ron and Ginny clean out dusty old cupboards, sweep floors, and even scrub the toilets.  
  
All in all, Harry was feeling happier than he had since before the end of term. As he drifted off to sleep on the eve of his sixteenth birthday he finally felt as though things were not quite as bleak as they had seemed before.

* * *

Nine a.m. on the last day of July found Arabella Figg strolling down Wisteria Walk on her way home from buying cabbage from the local grocer, her carpet slippers slapping the pavement in a shuffling cadence. Her mind was not on the walk, which she made every morning, but on one of her cats who had fallen ill. Imagine her surprise when she found, standing on her front stoop and trying to look as inconspicuous as possible, Petunia Dursley, dressed in her suburban-housewife best and sporting her usual pursed lips. Mrs. Figg stopped in her tracks and stared. What in Merlin's name was Petunia Dursley doing on her front stoop?  
  
"Mrs. Dursley?" she inquired, trying to sound polite, but unable to completely mask her surprise.  
  
"I want to know how he is," Petunia snapped with no preamble. "I know you are one of those freaks he hangs around with. I have known it for years. The sooner we get this over with, the better."  
  
Mrs. Figg was completely taken aback by this statement. Petunia Dursley had never shown any sign before of caring about Harry's welfare. Was she actually concerned about him, or was something else going on? "Er...of course...won't you come inside for a bit? Quite hot already, isn't it?" she babbled in her confusion.  
  
"I will not be staying more than a few minutes," Petunia said bluntly as she followed the batty old lady into the house. Her pointed nose wrinkled as she smelled the combination of cabbage and cats that permeated Arabella Figg's home, and she scanned the cluttered décor with obvious distaste. "I only want to know if the boy is alive or dead. I have a right to know."  
  
"Of course you do," Mrs. Figg answered. "The problem is, I don't rightly know. I'm afraid that I haven't talked to anyone since a few days after they took him away through my fire." In her fluster, she didn't even think to offer her neighbor a cup of tea.  
  
"He was alive then?"  
  
"Yes, and they expected him to make a full recovery," the squib answered, confused even further when she saw no sign of emotion, relief or otherwise, cross Petunia's face. "I'm afraid they don't often remember to keep me informed, you see. My job is to watch out for Harry, and when he is not here..."  
  
Petunia nodded curtly. "I want to speak with them. I know you can make that happen."  
  
"Well, I..." Mrs. Figg wondered if Petunia Dursley, a Muggle, was permitted to use the floo network, or if she was even able to.  
  
"That old man. The one with the revolting eye," Petunia began. "I want to speak with him or with that other man who came and took Potter."  
  
"You don't want to speak with Harry?" Mrs. Figg asked tentatively.  
  
"Of course I don't want to speak to him. Why would I want to speak to him? He's the reason my family has been tossed into the middle of this mess." Petunia was growing extremely impatient. Dudley would be awake soon, and she needed to be back at Number Four before he realized she was gone. She would have come earlier, but she had had to wait until Vernon had left for his office.  
  
Mrs. Figg was startled. No, she was more than startled. She was completely shocked.  
  
"Mrs. Figg," Petunia began haughtily, no more respecting the woman in front of her than she respected the people who cleaned the toilets at the market, "I want to speak to someone, and I do not have all day to wait. If you want that boy to return to my home next summer, you will contact one of the men I wish to speak to."  
  
Mrs. Figg simply stared at her, slightly offended and completely befuddled. She knew the boy had to return to Privet Drive next summer, and she could not see any way to avoid fulfilling this rude woman's request. "Right," she muttered. "We'll just have to use the floo."  
  
"Fine," Petunia snapped, not knowing or caring what the ridiculous word “floo” referred to. "Quickly, then."  
  
Mrs. Figg moved to her fireplace. Petunia watched, completely unimpressed, as the old woman grabbed a handful of glittering powder from a flower pot on her mantle, tossed it into the grate, and muttered something unintelligible as she got down on her knees and stuck her head right into the emerald-green flames. Because Dumbledore himself had never told Petunia Dursley the location of Headquarters, she could not understand the woman's words, but she honestly did not care. She watched as Mrs. Figg kept her head in the fire for a moment and then nodded curtly when the old woman leaned back out, shaking soot from her hair and rubbing her forehead, announcing, "Someone will be here in a moment."

* * *

Remus Lupin and Molly Weasley sat in the kitchen of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, planning the small gathering that would be held that evening in honor of Harry's sixteenth birthday. Molly had sent Ron, Ginny, and Harry upstairs not five minutes before, telling them that their task for the morning was to clean Buckbeak's room and keep the hippogriff company for awhile. The animal had not had proper company since Sirius’s death, and it had been a good excuse to make sure Harry stayed out of the kitchen and occupied while the preparation was going on.  
  
"I don't think it would be wise at this point to startle Harry," Remus advised.  
  
"No, of course you're right," Molly answered. "It will only be a small, quiet dinner with all of us. I will bake a cake of course, and he’ll have his presents."  
  
Remus nodded. "Maybe Fred and George could bring in a few jokes from their shop. I believe Harry would enjoy that diversion, as long as they agree not to do anything that would startle him too much."  
  
Molly was saved having to reply to this request by the flash of emerald-green flame in the kitchen grate and a loud yelp when Mrs. Figg's head collided violently with the copper teakettle on the trivet.  
  
"Arabella?" Remus asked, jumping to remove the teakettle from the fireplace. "Is something wrong? Do you need to talk to Albus?"  
  
"No, no," the old lady answered, "and I can't stay in here long. This is murder on my knees."  
  
"What is it?" Molly asked anxiously. She was suddenly afraid for Harry, even though she knew he was safe upstairs and that Ron or Ginny would have gotten her straightaway if anything had happened to him.  
  
"Well, it's...well, I can't rightly explain it, but I've got Harry's aunt here and she insists on speaking to one of you. Says she wants to know how Harry is, but she doesn't want to talk to him. She was quite adamant about that, actually."  
  
"Petunia Dursley wants to speak to one of _us_?" Remus asked in bewilderment. "Whatever for?" He did not believe for a moment that the woman was concerned about her only nephew; something else was going on. Even as he tried to remain calm, he could feel the pent-up anger he had felt towards the Dursleys all summer simmering dangerously close to the surface.  
  
"I don't rightly know," Mrs. Figg answered. "She said that if we want Harry to go to her home next summer, she insists on speaking to one of you now."  
  
"Oh, I will speak with her," Molly snarled, her voice dangerously low.  
  
"Molly, stay calm," warned Remus, although he was clenching his fists so tightly that his knuckles were white.  
  
"Can one of you come here, then?" Mrs. Figg pressed. "She won't leave until you do, and I've a sick cat to mind."  
  
"Right, Arabella," said Remus. "You may tell her one of us will be along shortly."  
  
Mrs. Figg nodded and her head disappeared from the flames. Molly and Remus simply stared at each other for a moment before Molly whispered in barely-contained rage, "I'll go, Remus. I've a few things I want to say to that woman."  
  
"That is precisely the reason why you will not go, Molly. We cannot risk anything negating the blood protection," Remus answered with a forced, steely calmness in his steady voice. "I will go."  
  
"We'll both go."  
  
"Don't be silly. You know that one of us has to stay here," Remus reminded her gently. "I will go, and I will tell you everything that is said as soon as I return. Besides, the children will find it far less suspicious if I leave than if you do."  
  
Molly knew that was true. Since Harry had recovered, Remus often left headquarters to speak to Albus or to perform some duty for the Order, while she usually stayed at the house, taking care of everybody and helping to manage the constant stream of messages between Order members. She hesitated and then nodded. "But you tell her, Remus...you tell her..." Molly could hardly get the words out, she was still so furious with the Dursleys.  
  
"All right, Molly," Remus said in the same calm voice. He was just as furious as she was, but both of them knew that he was much more likely to keep his temper than she. "Let's just see how this goes.” He took a handful of floo powder and threw it into the flames, saying clearly, "Arabella Figg's," and stepped into the fire.

* * *

Showing the first sign of apprehension, Petunia Dursley took several steps back as the flames in Mrs. Figg's fireplace burned green again a few moments later, and the thin, haggard-looking man she had seen with her nephew stepped out of the fire. He did not even look at her at first, making rather a show of brusquely brushing soot off of his faded brown robes and greeting Mrs. Figg. Finally, he turned to her. "You wished to speak to someone about Harry," he stated quietly.  
  
"Yes," Petunia answered, and then quickly recovered her usual haughty, snappish attitude. "You drop the boy on my doorstep, leave him in our care, and then take him away at your own whim, without even the courtesy of letting us know if he is alive or dead. You seem to forget that it has been _my_ family, not your kind, who has taken care of him all of his miserable life."  
  
Remus closed his eyes and took a deep breath, willing himself not to lose his temper with Harry's aunt. He pointedly ignored her claims of having "cared" for Harry in any way, and answered in a low voice, "Harry is alive, Mrs. Dursley, and is expected to make a full recovery. Now, if that is all you wanted to know, I'll just be -"  
  
"That is certainly not all I want to know," Petunia almost screeched. "I want to know what caused him to get that way, or who caused him to get that way. I want to know if it had anything to do with that man...that man who killed my sister." Her voice lowered by the end of the sentence, and Lupin thought that he might have detected a note of emotion when she said the word "sister," but he could not be sure.  
  
Remus hesitated. He had to tread very carefully. If he said the wrong thing, she was sure to forbid Harry to come back to Privet Drive, and that would make Harry an open target to Voldemort with the remaining blood protection negated. He decided that for the time-being a half-truth would have to do. "Mrs. Dursley," he said, his voice clipped. "About a week before he came back to Little Whinging, Harry went through a horrible ordeal with Voldemort." He shot a warning glance at Mrs. Figg, who had gasped when he said the name. "He also had to watch as his godfather, the closest thing he can ever remember to a _caring_ parent, was murdered. Quite understandably, Harry has been having a rough time of it."  
  
"I know about the nightmares," Petunia informed him coolly. "The boy told me about them."  
  
Remus almost lost his temper. "Was that before or after your husband hit Harry around the head so hard that it caused his face to bruise, Mrs. Dursley?"  
  
Petunia looked away from him and did not answer the question.  
  
"Harry also had vivid flashbacks during his waking hours," Remus continued, willing himself to calm down and telling her something that, if not quite the truth of Harry's condition, might explain it sufficiently enough to satisfy her. "These flashbacks left him physically and mentally weak, and the food you gave him made him sick."  
  
"The food I gave him was perfectly good," Petunia snapped, assuming that Remus was making a slur on her cooking.  
  
"That is not the point," Remus answered. "You asked how Harry came to be in the condition we found him in while under your _care_ , and I have answered. Will that be all?"  
  
"No," Petunia said softly. Lupin could detect, for the first time, some fear in her voice. "I want to know if...that man..."  
  
"Voldemort," Remus prompted, causing Mrs. Figg to gasp once again.  
  
"I want to know if having that boy stay with us is going to cause that man to come after my family."  
  
"Mrs. Dursley," Remus began. "While Voldemort is still alive and at large, there is no family in the world, magical or non-magical, that is safe. You may not understand it, but Harry is our greatest hope in defeating him once and for all, and by keeping him safe, you are helping to ensure not only the safety of your own family, but the safety of countless other families as well."  
  
Petunia had not been looking for that answer. All she wanted to know was that Vernon and Dudley were going to stay safe if she allowed Harry houseroom for one more year. "This...thing..." she could not bring herself to say the word ‘magic.’ "This protection you say the boy has. Will it keep us safe as well?"  
  
"You will be as safe as Harry is while he is with you," Lupin answered quietly. "Blood magic is a powerful magic, and as I am sure Headmaster Dumbledore explained to you, when your sister Lily gave her life to protect Harry, he remains safe while he can still call home the place where her blood resides."  
  
Petunia nodded, and with a curt glance at her thin gold wristwatch, she turned and hurried from the room without another word. Dudley usually woke around midmorning, hungry for breakfast, and it was already nearly ten. Remus watched her go and swore softly, biting back the barrage of words he wanted to throw at her back. He could not fault her for her concern for Vernon and Dudley, but he was immeasurably angry that not a modicum of that concern extended to her nephew. He sighed, told Mrs. Figg goodbye and that they would contact her again in a few days, and flooed back to Headquarters.

* * *

"Harry, Ron, Ginny! Come down for dinner now!" Molly called up the stairs.  
  
Harry grinned at his two friends, knowing that he was actually heading down to his first-ever birthday party, and the three trooped downstairs. "Now, Harry," warned Ginny. "You'd better act surprised, or else they'll all think I told you."  
  
"Well, you did," Ron commented, and then, imitating Ginny's voice, said, "Oh, no, Harry, nothing's going on...well, almost nothing...well, it's supposed to be a surprise, you know..."  
  
Harry chuckled at this. Ginny, despite all of her experience dealing with her older brothers, was still useless when it came to keeping secrets under pressure, and he had to admit to himself that he had enjoyed teasing her until she told him why they hadn't been allowed in the kitchen all day. He had no idea about the conversation Remus had with Aunt Petunia that morning. Molly and Remus had decided that they did not want to spoil his birthday party, and would talk to him about it at another time if they needed to talk to him about it at all.  
  
"Ginny didn't really tell me anything, Ron," he teased. "Only that it was a surprise, and it was going to be in the kitchen, and that it had something to do with my birthday." Ginny blushed, and then blushed even more when she realized how much Harry had been making her blush during the past week as his normal personality had begun to return to him.  
  
When they reached the kitchen, Ron and Ginny let Harry go through the door first. He looked around and saw the Weasleys, Tonks, Moody, Lupin, Dumbledore, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Professor McGonagall, and...Hermione. No one shouted "surprise" or made any sudden movements; they all just stood grinning behind the table, which was loaded down with food, a huge birthday cake, and the biggest pile of presents Harry had ever seen.  
  
"Hermione!" Harry heard Ron exclaim as he came in behind him. "Mum didn't tell us you were going to be here!" Harry noted with some amusement that Ron's voice had gone all high-pitched at the sight of their friend.  
  
Hermione rushed around the table, but before she greeted Ron and Ginny, she threw her arms around Harry's neck in a tight hug. "Oh, Harry, I've been so _worried_! Are you all right? How are you feeling?" Harry staggered a bit under the force of the hug, but hugged her back all the same.  
  
"I'm fine now, Hermione. Really!" he assured her. She finally broke away from him, gave Ginny a quick hug, and then turned to hug Ron. Harry and the rest of the people in the room couldn't help but notice that her hug lasted a little longer than was strictly necessary.  
  
"All right, you four," Mrs. Weasley said. "No reason to stand around in the doorway. Come on in, and let's get this celebration going!"  
  
The food, as usual, was fantastic, and Harry thought he had never done anything so much fun as blowing out the candles on his birthday cake in one huge huff that made him gasp. The only cake he had ever been given on his birthday had been the small cake that Hagrid had brought five years before when Harry had turned eleven and found out he was a wizard.  
  
After everyone had been served cake, Harry opened his presents. He was amazed at the sheer number of them. _So this is why Dudley gets so excited about his birthday_ , he thought. In truth, though, as excited as he was about the presents, just the fact that all of these people had come to celebrate his birthday was the most wonderful feeling in the world.  
  
Fred and George, of course, gave Harry a huge box full of merchandise from Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, "compliments of the owners." Bill and Charlie gave him a sleek silver carrying case for his Firebolt which had anti-theft detection. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and Ginny gave him an old-looking box with a large gold key to keep any special possessions safe and hidden, and Ron gave him the usual box of Honeyduke's chocolates and candies. Hermione, Lupin, Tonks, Kingsley, and Professor McGonagall presented him with an assortment of books on Defense, as well as a copy of Advanced Transfiguration. "You will need that this term, Potter," McGonagall told him, smiling at him with something of a proud glint in her eyes.  
  
"I will?" Harry asked. O.W.L. results had not come yet, and he knew he had to receive at least "Exceeds Expectations" on his Transfiguration exam to make Professor McGonagall's N.E.W.T. class. McGonagall nodded, but would not say anything else on the matter even when Hermione mutely pled with her from across the table.  
  
Harry's last gift was an oddly-shaped, squashy package from Professor Dumbledore. Harry couldn't think what it might be. The last package he had gotten from Dumbledore had been his father's invisibility cloak. He opened the wrapping and laughed when four pairs of heavy woolen socks, in an assortment of colors, fell into his lap. He looked up at his Headmaster and saw the familiar twinkle in his eyes. "A man can never have too many warm socks, Harry," Dumbledore said. "I'm particularly fond of the red ones," he added.  
  
Harry felt a well of emotion as he looked at his friends, no, his family, from Bill with his long red hair tied back in a ponytail, to Hermione, who had tears sparkling in her eyes. "Thank you," he choked. "Just...thank you."  
  
"You're quite wel-" Mrs. Weasley started, but was interrupted by Lupin, who exclaimed, "Harry!"  
  
Harry suddenly let out a loud yell and fallen to his knees, clutching his forehead. His face paled to a deadly white, and he swayed. Charlie, who was standing nearest to him, caught him right before he hit the ground.


	12. Under Siege

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry is subjected to an attack the likes of which even Professor Dumbledore has never encountered, and Voldemort finally gets what he's been after the entire summer.

For the first few moments of the attack on his mind, Harry tried to concentrate through the blinding pain in his forehead, tried to close the doors to the fortress he had mentally constructed, tried to keep Voldemort out. But this time, the pressure was unlike anything Harry had ever felt before. It felt like a battering ram aimed directly at his soul.  
  
" _Happy birthday, Potter. It has been far too long_."  
  
As he heard the dreaded voice echo in his mind, Harry felt the pressure increase tenfold. He knew the Dark Lord was delving deep into his thoughts, looking for something. He pushed back with all his strength, but his defenses dropped almost completely when he heard another voice, a cold, drawling voice that he hated almost as much as the high, hissing one.  
  
" _Yes, yes. Happy birthday, Potter. It would not do to neglect the niceties_."  
  
The pain was staggering, and Harry could only vaguely hear the shouts of the people in the kitchen of Headquarters as he fought to hold on to the last shred of his defenses, that locked room deep in his mind in which his most private thoughts were held under metaphorical lock and key. Lucius Malfoy's voice drawled on as Harry felt the seeping, insidious entrance of the Dark Lord into his most private thoughts, and he knew he could not win against this new, double attack.  
  
" _Not so easy to fight when there are two of us, is it? To think that your fool of a professor actually believes you to be a match for the Dark Lord_." Harry could almost see Malfoy shaking his head in mocking disbelief as his words slithered through the mind link.  
  
Somewhere else in his mind, a scene played from a long time ago. Dudley and Harry, only five years old, had gotten into a row over the remote control to the telly. Uncle Vernon had beaten Harry after giving the remote to his cousin, and had locked him into his cupboard. Young Harry cried at the injustice of it as much as from the pain of the beating, and he begged his uncle to let him out.  
  
" _Oh, dear. What a naughty little boy_ ," Lucius Malfoy continued to drawl.  
  
Ginny Weasley, looking pale and almost dead, lay motionless on the floor of the Chamber of Secrets while Tom Riddle used Harry's wand to spell out "I am Lord Voldemort" in the air above her.  
  
" _That almost worked, Potter, but you managed to save the little girl. She will not be so fortunate next time_ ," Voldemort's voice broke in smoothly.  
  
" _We will have her, Potter, as well as the rest of the blood traitors_ ," Malfoy added.  
  
A tall, hooded figure with death-rattle breath closed in on him. He felt cold, and he heard his mother's screams as all happiness was pulled away from him.  
  
" _Do you fear the Dementors, Potter? I will have to remember that_."  
  
As Harry grappled uselessly against the intrusion into the memories that had scarred him most deeply, he heard the ghostly voice of Professor Trelawney, weird and frightening as she revolved slowly atop the swirling liquid-gas of Dumbledore's Pensieve..." _The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches...Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies....and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not...and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives...The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies_..."  
  
Harry heard Voldemort's triumphant hiss as Trelawney's voice faded into silence. The Dark Lord had gotten what he wanted most. The memories faded, all went black, and Harry knew no more.  
  


* * *

  
Albus Dumbledore pushed past the group surrounding Harry just as Charlie lowered the shaking teenager gently to the floor. Everyone in the room was horrified at what was happening to Harry - besides Molly, Lupin, and Ginny, no one had ever seen it before, even if they had heard about it. Hermione and Ginny stood, holding each other's hands tightly, tears streaming down their faces as they silently sobbed. The five Weasley brothers and their father stood close together, staring at Harry, the freckles standing out on their pale faces. McGonagall stood stock still, her hand clapped over her mouth in horror, her eyes wide. Tonks, Kingsley, and Mad-Eye stood on the other side of the table, unable to tear their gazes from Harry, although Moody's magical eye was searching the room wildly.  
  
Molly and Remus pulled Harry's stiff body into a sitting position, and Lupin shouted desperately for Harry to fight to keep his Occlumency shield in place. Molly said nothing but held the boy to her, alarmed at his trembling and the sweat running down his neck.  
  
Dumbledore was the single person in the room that seemed calm. He knelt down next to Harry, put a gentle hand on his shoulder, and said softly, "Harry, remember. No one can get in if you don't want them there. You can fight this -" His voice abruptly stopped as Harry's body seized, and Lupin and Molly were nearly knocked over with the force of it.  
  
"No!" Harry yelled, but his body suddenly fell slack into Molly's arms. He began to moan in a small voice almost unrecognizable as his own, "No, Uncle Vernon, don't hurt me! I'm sorry...let me out, please, let me out!"  
  
Molly's eyes filled with tears. She could easily guess that Harry was being forced to relive some of his childhood memories as Voldemort probed his mind. At that moment, she hated Vernon Dursley more completely than she had ever hated anyone in her life.  
  
Dumbledore's voice became more insistent, an almost fearful quality radiating out of him as he spoke. "Harry, you must fight him. Push back, Harry! Push him out of your mind! He must not stay! Harry!"  
  
Harry did not respond in any way. His eyes fluttered as he said in a voice barely above a whisper, "Ginny, oh Ginny, please don't be dead."  
  
Remus glanced at Molly, whose face had gone white with these words. The Weasley men turned as one to look at Ginny, now being supported by Hermione and looking as though she might fall if left to stand on her own. Arthur quickly went to them and took Ginny in his arms and held her close, kissing the top of her head.  
  
"Harry! You're giving him exactly what he wants!" Remus shouted. "Fight it, Harry! You can do this!"  
  
"You must push him out of your mind, Harry," Dumbledore's voice was quiet again, but it held an edge of panic. Besides Remus, no one else in the room knew that Harry held the words of Sybill Trelawney's prophecy in his memory, and only Dumbledore guessed it was that which Voldemort was after. Remus was too concerned about Harry to think of it.  
  
"Mum," Harry moaned. "Mum, no..."  
  
Remus gripped Harry's shoulder hard enough that it would have been painful had Harry been able to feel it over the pain in his forehead. "Harry, please," he whispered, terrified at what was happening to his charge. "You have to fight this. You just have to!"  
  
"Harry James Potter!" Dumbledore thundered. Everyone in the room jumped at his sudden change in tone and volume. An aura of power surrounded the old man, who was determined to break this attack any way he had to. "Listen to me! You will fight this! You can push him out of your mind! Fight him, Harry. _Fight_!"  
  
Harry, once again, made no response. His energy seemed completely spent as he mumbled, "the one with the power..." He gave a great gasp as if struggling for air and fell, once again completely lifeless, back into Molly's arms.  
  
"It is over," Dumbledore said quietly, bending to examine Harry closely. He brushed Harry's fringe off his forehead, tracing the lightning-bolt scar with his long fingers, knowing that it was likely that Voldemort now knew the full contents of the prophecy. Why had not Harry been able to successfully keep his shield in place? He had done it once before, and Dumbledore could guess no sufficient reason for Harry's helplessness in this instance - he should have been able to push Voldemort out quickly, like he had last time. What was the difference?  
  
"He needs to be in his bed," Molly said softly, her arms shaking with the effort of holding his dead weight. "Bill, Charlie, get him upstairs and stay with him. He won't wake for some time yet. Ron, Ginny, Hermione, you go up with him too. I want him to see your faces when he does wake up. Fred and George, go to Hogwarts and find Madam Pomfrey. I am afraid Harry's going to need her again."  
  
Bill and Charlie supported Harry's weight between them and left the kitchen, followed by Ron, Hermione, and Ginny. Ron and Hermione were holding hands now, and Ginny had her arms wrapped around herself as tears continued to stream down her face. Mrs. Weasley knew that Ginny needed comfort, but she also knew that Bill and Ginny were very close, and Bill would be able to calm her down while the other adults talked. Fred and George, their identical faces more solemn than anyone had ever seen, threw floo powder into the fireplace, said "Hogwarts" and stepped into the flames.  
  
Remus Lupin stood up and made to follow the group out of the kitchen, but Dumbledore said quietly, "Remus, you need to stay here for the moment. Harry will be asleep for some time. I promise that you will be there when he wakes. Everyone, please sit."  
  
Professor McGonagall, Tonks, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Mad-Eye Moody, Arthur, and Molly all found chairs at the kitchen table, which was still strewn with the remainder of the night's party. The presents and the cake looked out of place now, and the mood in the room was extremely heavy as they all looked to Albus Dumbledore.  
  
"I do not know," he began, "how Voldemort has been getting past the wards. I can only guess that the connection between himself and Harry has grown strong enough that he no longer needs to be near the boy, or even to know his location, in order to practice legilimency on him."  
  
"But the Occlumency lessons," Professor McGonagall broke in. "Albus, you said the boy was doing well."  
  
"He has been learning remarkably quickly. Just the other day, he was able to stop an attack by Voldemort within seconds of the onset, and he is able to force me out of his mind almost every lesson now."  
  
"Then why couldn't he today?" Remus asked, his voice once again sounding tired and defeated.  
  
"I do not know, Remus," Dumbledore answered. "I do not know what was different about this attack. That is something only Harry will be able to tell us."  
  
"Will he remember?" Tonks asked.  
  
"Yes," Molly answered. "He is always able to remember, though it would be best if he could forget."  
  
"No," Moody growled. "It is best that he remembers, or he will never learn to push the intrusions from his mind."  
  
Molly turned to Mad-Eye angrily, about to retort, but Arthur put a calming hand on her arm. She hated that Harry had to go through all of this, and it made her blood boil that they were discussing him as if he were nothing more than a pawn in this war, a weapon.  
  
Remus suddenly thought of the prophecy. He looked at Dumbledore. "Do you think..." His voice trailed off at Dumbledore's warning look, but his heart was gripped in fear when the old man gave him an almost imperceptible nod. So Dumbledore thought that Voldemort knew the prophecy, and Remus knew that meant that the Dark Lord would stop at nothing to find Harry and to destroy him. _Not_ , Remus reflected sadly, _that there has ever been a time since Harry's reentrance to the Wizarding world that Voldemort had_ not _sought him_. He was simply afraid that now Voldemort knew the real stakes he would redouble his efforts, and it would become almost impossible to keep Harry safe.  
  
"Kingsley, Tonks," Dumbledore began. "Until Harry returns to Hogwarts, we are going to need an increased guard around this house and around Harry if he leaves it. Can you organize some appropriate people to help us with this?"  
  
Tonks and Kingsley both nodded and got up to floo back to Auror headquarters.  
  
Professor McGonagall asked, "But school, Albus. What about when Harry is at Hogwarts? We can hardly expect him to travel the halls with a contingent of Aurors."  
  
Dumbledore answered heavily, "I have increased the wards around the school as much as I am able, and it would take much to breach them. In the meantime, we will all keep close watch on the situation for Harry's sake as well as that of the school itself."  
  
"Is there anything else, Albus?" Remus asked. "I really should be getting upstairs."  
  
"No; for now, this is all we can do. Everyone, be on your guard. Harry's situation has never been more dangerous."  
  
Although no one in the room but Remus knew exactly what the prophecy said, Harry's danger was evident. They all nodded, and after securing promises from Molly that she would tell them how Harry was when he woke up, Professor McGonagall and Mad-Eye Moody left the kitchen to go home.  
  
Molly turned to Dumbledore, who had also been preparing to leave. "Albus," she asked quietly. "What are you not telling us?"  
  
Dumbledore sighed. "Molly, I'm afraid I can say nothing more at present. When Harry is ready to talk about it, he will...and I know he will be ready soon. For now, though, I leave Harry in your excellent care. I must return to Hogwarts."  
  
Dumbledore turned softly to leave the room, and Remus followed him, intending to go up to Harry's bedroom immediately.  
  
Molly began cleaning up feverishly, continuing until Arthur put a hand on her shoulder and drew her into a tight hug. "Oh, Arthur," Molly said softly, the slightest catch in her voice. "How much more is he going to have to take?"  
  
Arthur had no answer.  
  


* * *

  
Ginny silently followed her brothers up the stairs to Harry's room, numb with shock. This attack had been infinitely worse than the one she had witnessed the week before, and the pleading she had heard in Harry's voice when he had spoken of his memory of the Chamber had rocked her to her very core. How dare anyone threaten Harry the way that Voldemort had! Even through her shock, Ginny started to feel anger unlike she had ever felt, a cold, simmering anger at Vernon Dursley, Voldemort, and anyone else who had ever tried to hurt Harry. He was just a teenage boy, like her brother Ron. Why did he have to go through all of this?  
  
Bill and Charlie lay Harry gently on his bed, and even in his stupor, Harry immediately turned on his side and curled into a fetal ball, trying to protect himself even in sleep. Charlie sat heavily in the armchair next to the bed, staring at Harry in shocked disbelief at what he had seen the kid go through. Bill, however, immediately turned to Ginny and pulled her into his strong arms.  
  
The affection from her brother was all Ginny needed to find release. She immediately broke into great, wracking sobs against her brother's chest. Bill whispered to her, "Shhh...little sis, it is going to be all right...Harry's okay now; he's only sleeping."  
  
Ron watched the scene as though he were miles away. He did not know how to help Ginny or Harry or anyone. He was grateful when he felt Hermione's cool hand slip gently into his own, and he looked into her frightened eyes, knowing that his mirrored what she was feeling. They had been through so much with Harry, but they had never seen him as broken as he had been downstairs. It brought a whole new dimension to Harry's existence, and any jealousy Ron had ever felt about Harry's fame melted into pity for his friend.  
  
"We have to help him, Ron," Hermione whispered. "I don't know what to do, but we have to help him somehow." Ron nodded dumbly, knowing that even Hermione's millions of books were unlikely to help Harry now.  
  
Ginny's sobs gradually faded into a soft weeping as Bill continued to hug her, wanting desperately to comfort the young sister he had grown up trying to protect. It was hard for him to do, though, because even his sharp mind was having trouble wrapping around what had happened tonight, and Bill sensed that Ginny's feelings for Harry had moved beyond friendship, beyond a crush, into a deeper love and a fierce determination to protect him. He knew it, even if she didn't. He knew this had to be hell for her.  
  


* * *

  
Two weeks passed before Harry was able to get out of bed again. This time, Madam Pomfrey had said that it was not his body that was exhausted, but his mind and his heart. He spent most of his time in his room, always with someone but still always alone, thinking about what had happened and about what he had to do.  
  
Voldemort, having gotten what he wanted, had not attacked Harry again. Harry supposed, as did Remus and Dumbledore, that he was busy planning and plotting on how best to ensure that the prophecy would be fulfilled in his favor. Harry was not afraid, however. He just wanted this to end, one way or another, so that he could try his hand at living a normal life. It was with this thought in mind that Harry finally got out of bed and started spending time with Ron, Hermione, and Ginny once more. Hermione had appealed to her parents to let her stay for the last few weeks of the summer, and they had reluctantly agreed.  
  
Two nights after his confinement had ended and Harry had begun wandering the house, Remus marveled at how, although Harry always needed time to recover from his ordeals, he was always able to bounce back.  
  
Dumbledore had questioned Harry mercilessly when he had awoken the day after his birthday. They had found out that Voldemort and Lucius Malfoy had staged a tandem attack on Harry's mind, although how that had been done was still a mystery. Lucius Malfoy was still in Azkaban when Dumbledore had checked with the Ministry of Magic. There was no way anyone knew of that he could have been with Voldemort that night.  
  
Dumbledore suspected that the Dementors had indeed revolted, just as Voldemort had claimed during the attack on Harry. Cornelius Fudge, however, continued to insist that the Dementors remained Azkaban in the Ministry's employ. He was still trying to politically recover from the disaster that had been You-Know-Who's public return in June, and would not admit that it was possible that anything else had gone wrong. Most likely, Dumbledore knew that meant that the Dementors were serving Voldemort in secret, and that was how Voldemort and Lucius Malfoy had managed to break into Harry's mind together.  
  
This was a completely unheard-of use of Legilimency, and Dumbledore had dedicated much of the past two weeks in research of different ways to achieve it. The fact that both Malfoy and Voldemort had broken into Harry's mind at the same time was not wholly unheard of, though it was unusual. It was the fact that, from what Harry had recalled, the two had been able to work together, to see the same thoughts - in effect, they had been able to work as one. For Harry, the effect had been disastrous. Two powerful wizards breaking into the mind at once would have been hard for even the most skilled Occlumens to fight, and Harry had only been effectively studying Occlumency for a few weeks. The worst part was that Dumbledore had yet to find out how they had done it, which meant that he did not yet know how to counter the attack.  
  
The Headmaster continued to visit headquarters daily and to work with Harry on his Occlumency each morning. Like Lupin, he had been worried when the boy had stayed in his room for so long, and then heartened when Harry had begun enjoying his time with his friends again. Dumbledore liked to remind himself how resilient the young mind could be, but in his darker moments he worried about the long-term effects this was going to have on Harry.  
  
So the last part of the summer wore on. Between the love of his friends, the help from his headmaster and his guardian, and the healing of time, Harry was becoming well once again.


	13. O.W.L.s

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> O.W.L. results finally arrive at headquarters, and Harry finally starts to realize the possibilities that lie within his own power. Much more important, however, is a certain question to which Moony wants an answer.

The first day of the last week of summer was brilliantly bright and hot, not that Harry really noticed - he had not been outside of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place since his arrival a month before. Up until that day, he had not really minded. He had Ron, Hermione, and Ginny to keep him occupied, Moony to talk to, his Occlumency lessons, and the interest of trying to listen in on several Order meetings.  
  
Eavesdropping on the Order had become even more difficult because Fred and George were now full members. With their newfound sense of responsibility, they had refused to lend the others a set of Extendable Ears and would not tell them what happened in the meetings. Surprisingly, the business-savvy twins had even declined Harry's offer to buy sets of them for himself, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny. "Sorry, mate," George had insisted. "Order rules, you know. We're not even selling them in the shop. Imagine if Draco Malfoy got hold of a set."  
  
Harry was in a rather bad mood that morning. Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and Molly were all going to Diagon Alley to buy their new school things. Despite his persistent nagging and offers to go under his Invisibility Cloak, Remus and Dumbledore had denied Harry's request that he be allowed to go with the others. All of his friends had offered to stay, but he told them that there was no reason they should be cooped up just because he had to be. Strangely, Ginny had seemed almost disappointed.  
  
"Harry, hold still, dear," Molly said distractedly as she supervised a tape measure that was taking Harry's measurements for some new school robes.  
  
"It would be much easier if you would just let me go -" Harry began.  
  
Remus broke in, "Harry, I'm sorry, but we've been through this and the answer is final. It is just not safe for you at the moment, and it would be less safe for everyone if you went." He felt bad about appealing to Harry's need to protect his friends, but he was afraid that Harry would do something rash. As Harry's guardian, he felt the weight of his responsibility and was rather apt to be stricter regarding safety than Sirius had been wont to be. "Besides, you won't be alone. I'll be staying here, and we can have a nice time on our own for a change. I've wanted to show you some of the defense books in the library here and to talk with you about your plans for the D.A. this year."  
  
Lupin had said the magic words when he had mentioned Harry's friends, and although Harry was not happy about it, he stood still while Mrs. Weasley finished measuring him, only muttering a bit under his breath, words that sounded remarkably like "unfair" and "not a child."  
  
Molly and Remus exchanged amused smiles behind Harry's back. Even though they felt bad that he could not go with the rest of the teenagers, his stubborn arguments and mutterings were just more proof that Harry was indeed returning to normal, or as normal as he ever was in any case.  
  
Just as Molly put away her tape measure, Hermione came rushing into the room followed closely by Ron and Ginny. "Harry, they're here! The O.W.L. results are finally here!" She handed Harry a large parchment envelope addressed in Professor McGonagall's distinctively spiky handwriting and signature green ink.  
  
"It's about time, too," Molly commented, smiling at the looks of nervous anticipation on Ron, Hermione, and Harry's faces as they held their letters, hardly daring to open them. "Minerva promised me they would be here this morning before we left for Diagon Alley. They've taken longer this year because so many of the professors are working for the Order, I suppose."  
  
Ron and Hermione cast sympathetic looks at Harry at the mention of the day's outing, but Ginny did not even seem to notice her mother's words. She was examining her envelope. Even though hers would not contain O.W.L. results, of course, she felt a strange sense of anticipation, and she couldn't put her finger on why the letter was making her so nervous.  
  
"All right, you three, what are you waiting for? Ronald, I certainly hope you have done better than your brothers!" Mrs. Weasley was almost as nervous as the sixth years. She always wanted her children to do well, and she also hoped that this would be one more accomplishment that Harry could be proud of.  
  
Ron, Harry, and Hermione ripped open their envelopes in unison, and for a few moments, there was silence but for the crinkling of parchment as they read their results.  
  
"Well?" Molly prompted. Slowly, Harry, Ron, and Hermione looked up. She looked into their faces. Hermione, of course, looked ecstatic. They had all expected her to do very well, of course. Ron had a smile on his face, too, but Harry looked befuddled.  
  
Ron gave his mother his results, and it seemed for a moment as if she were going to jump up and down in delight. "Oh, Ronnie! How wonderful! Eight O.W.L.s! Oh, I'm so _proud_ of you!" It was immediately evident that Mrs. Weasley had been rather worried that Ron would not perform well on his O.W.L.s.  
  
Harry looked down at his parchment again, convinced that something would have changed since a moment before.  
  


> _Dear Mr. Potter,_
> 
> _We are pleased to inform you of the results of your O.W.L. examinations taken in June at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please remember the scoring standard as you read your results:_
> 
> _O - Outstanding_
> 
> _E - Exceeds Expectations_
> 
> _A - Acceptable_
> 
> _P - Poor_
> 
> _D - Dreadful_
> 
> _Scores of O, E, and A constitute a pass on each exam._
> 
> _Scores for Harry James Potter, Number 4, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey, are as follows:_
> 
> _Transfiguration: E_
> 
> _Defense Against the Dark Arts: O_
> 
> _Herbology: E_
> 
> _Care of Magical Creatures: O_
> 
> _Potions: O_
> 
> _Astronomy: A_
> 
> _Charms: O_
> 
> _Divination: P_
> 
> _History of Magic: A_
> 
> _Congratulations on your achievement of eight O.W.L.s, Mr. Potter, with an overall score of Exceeds Expectations._
> 
> _Sincerely,_
> 
> _Griselda Marchbanks  
> _

  
Also enclosed was Harry's annual school letter and booklist. Surprisingly enough, however, the book list was completely blank. The reason for this was revealed as he read his letter from Professor McGonagall.  
  


> _Dear Mr. Potter,_
> 
> _Enclosed please find the results of your O.W.L examinations. Please select which six N.E.W.T.-level classes you wish to take in your sixth term at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and indicate them on the checklist of classes available to you below._
> 
> _As always, the Hogwarts Express will be leaving Kings Cross Station, Platform 9 ¾, at precisely 11 a.m. on the first of September. I trust the remainder of your holiday has gone well, and look forward to seeing you at the start of term feast._
> 
> _Sincerely,_
> 
> _Professor M. McGonagall_
> 
> _Deputy Headmistress_
> 
> _Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry  
> _

  
"Which classes are you going to take, mate?" asked Ron. "I can only drop one - I scored an 'E' on Potions, so that class isn't listed on my checklist. Did you make it?"  
  
Harry nodded, not quite sure how he had achieved an "O" on his Potions exam. Had Dumbledore had anything to do with these scores? He checked the list again, sure he had read it incorrectly. Harry remembered how much easier it had been to perform well on his Potions exam without Snape hovering over him, insulting him, criticizing his every move, and he reckoned that must have made the difference.  
  
"What are you going to drop, then?" he asked Ron.  
  
"Well, I didn't pass Divination -"  
  
"Me either," Harry interrupted, the smallest trace of a grin on his face. "So that's out."  
  
"So I reckon I'll drop History of Magic. Pretty useless class, anyway," Ron finished, and Harry nodded his agreement.  
  
"I'll drop Binns as well," he decided. "Only, I have to drop one more. What do you think, Hermione?"  
  
Hermione was staring at her checklist. " _Six_?" she exclaimed incredulously. " _Only six_?" I got twelve O.W.L.s! How in the world am I supposed to choose only six? I'll need to talk to Professor McGonagall, of course, she couldn't possibly expect -"  
  
"Hermione," Ron protested, "You're barking mad if you're going to take more than six! N.E.W.T.-level classes are really difficult and they are all double periods. Remember what happened third year."  
  
Hermione glared at him and did not answer.  
  
Just as Harry had decided that he was going to drop Astronomy to make sure that he took all of the courses required to become an Auror, he heard another squeal from Mrs. Weasley. He quickly looked up from his booklist, which had magically listed the required texts for his chosen classes as he had checked them off the list.  
  
Ginny, in addition to holding her school letter, was holding a red and gold prefect's badge in her right hand. She was smiling but looked flabbergasted all the same. She had forgotten about the prefect's badge in the face of the difficulties Harry had been having, but she supposed that was why she had felt nervous when she had gotten her letter. Being the youngest of seven children, four of whom had already been made prefects, she felt a considerable amount of pressure to live up to her older brothers' examples. She knew Fred and George would tease her mercilessly, but she was happy with her achievement all the same.  
  
Mrs. Weasley beamed so brightly that Harry thought she could possibly have lit the entire room. "Look at all of you! Ron and Harry with eight O.W.L.s apiece, Hermione with twelve, and Ginny a prefect! Oh, this is such wonderful news! We will have a celebration tonight after we get back."  
  
Remus grinned as he shook Ron's hand, congratulated Hermione and Ginny, and clapped Harry proudly on the shoulder. "That's excellent, you four."  
  
"Oh, we have to get going!" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed suddenly. "Ron, Hermione, Ginny...if we're going to do all of our shopping and get back in time to plan a celebratory dinner, we need to leave now! I must send Errol with a message for Arthur!"  
  
Ron, Hermione, and Ginny all looked sadly at Harry, whose smile faded as quickly as it had come.  
  
"Listen, mate," Ron began. "Mum can do our shopping - she has before. How about we all just stay here and have some chess?" Harry could tell Ron was trying to help, but he could see that the prospect of staying at headquarters for the day was not one that Ron enjoyed.  
  
"No, it's all right," he muttered, looking up and trying to smile at them. "But I fully expect you to tell me all about Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes and bring me back some ice cream from Florean Fortescue's, and tell me if there's a new broomstick out at Quality Quidditch Supplies..." he trailed off. He wanted to make his friends feel better about going so he had made his voice as casual as possible, but listing all of the things he would miss made him wish all the more that he could go.  
  
"Harry," Ginny started.  
  
"No, really," he said, smiling a smile he didn't feel. "Go on. You've been cooped up here with me long enough. I think I can manage for one day, and besides, Moony will be here with me." _Because of course I can't ever be alone_ , he thought bitterly. His bad mood, which had lifted when he got the O.W.L. results, had quite returned.  
  
Ron, Hermione, and Ginny all followed Mrs. Weasley out the door and down to the kitchen to head to Diagon Alley. After the sound of their footsteps on the stairs had died down, he left the drawing room to return to his bedroom. Suddenly he didn't feel like doing anything but lying in bed and staring at the ceiling.  
  
After waiting a few more moments Moony quietly followed him down the hall, but he did not go into Harry's bedroom. Sensing correctly that Harry would resent his presence right then but unwilling to leave him completely alone, Remus sat on the floor outside the bedroom door, pulled a small leather-bound book from his pocket and began to read, keeping his ears open for anything amiss in the room behind him.  
  


* * *

  
Harry closed the bedroom door, hoping that Moony would take the hint and not follow him in, and flopped onto his back on the bed. It felt very strange to be alone; he'd had constant company since his arrival at Headquarters. Strange as it was, though, Harry was glad to have some time to think. Part of him wished he had held the others to their offers to stay here with him, but he didn't want to spoil everyone's fun; besides, they were safer without him. For the first time in awhile, Harry found himself going over the Prophecy once again.  
  
" _For neither can live while the other survives..._ "  
  
Harry knew that it was highly unlikely that he would survive a real battle with Voldemort, a duel that was prophesied to end in one of their deaths. Voldemort was so much more powerful than he, Harry, could ever be. He had been a wizard for more than half a century, and Harry had only five short years of training. Harry chuckled, but it was not a mirthful sound. It was hard and bitter, and very unlike him. How could anyone think that he would be able to take down the Dark Lord?  
  
 _All I'm good for_ , Harry thought, _is putting the people I care for in danger. That's it. There's just nothing else for it_.  
  
Thoughts of Sirius filled his head as he looked at the ceiling of his godfather's old bedroom. _This is where Sirius grew up_ , he thought. He knew that Sirius's childhood had been, in its own way, as miserable as his own. And because of Harry, Sirius had lost his best friend, the only family he had, and then had lost his own life.  
  
Harry blinked furiously. After the attack on his sixteenth birthday, he had shown very little real emotion. He was just too drained to feel, sometimes. Keeping himself distracted had been fairly easy, but alone for the first time in weeks, the despair that he had felt while on Privet Drive returned to him.  
  
" _It's you, Harry. It's always been you. I died because of it. I died because of you_."  
  
No matter what Moony and Mrs. Weasley said, Harry still felt crushing guilt when he thought of his godfather. Now that he knew about the prophecy, he knew that the people around him would constantly be in danger. They always had been, but now, knowing that he was a marked man, Harry finally understood the reality of the situation. This was war, and he was right in the center of it.  
  
" _Your godfather won't be the last to die..._ "  
  
Visions of Sirius falling through the veil and flashes of the dead faces of his friends overwhelmed him once again. Voldemort was not doing this to him. This was Harry's mind, Harry's fear, Harry's guilt - not all negative emotions came from He Who Must Not Be Named. Harry and the others had been concentrating so hard on keeping Voldemort out of his mind that they had all but forgotten that Harry had issues of his own to deal with as well.  
  
 _How am I going to do it_? Harry thought desperately. _I couldn't even perform the Cruciatus Curse on Bellatrix Lestrange right after Sirius died. How am I going to perform a killing curse_? He felt as though the weight of the entire world was on his shoulders.  
  
For the first time since his birthday, Harry felt his emotions well to the surface. He wished they would all just leave him alone, stay out of his life, because to be near him was to be marked for death, or worse.  
  


* * *

  
Remus sat outside the room, his reading forgotten, wondering what Harry was thinking about or if he had simply gone to sleep. Remus knew that the day without the other teenagers would to be hard for Harry. They had been the only ones who could distract him from his troubles and make him smile. Harry and Moony had become closer in the past few weeks than they had ever been, but Remus was not a teenager and he knew that Harry needed their jokes, their teasing, and their antics to make him feel normal, even happy.  
  
Remus sat for a few more minutes, and had just decided to run downstairs to get a cup of tea and the chess set for himself and for Harry when he heard the quiet sobs coming from inside the bedroom. He knew Harry was not being attacked - these were not the violent sounds that accompanied that. Should he go to him or let him have this time to himself, which was clearly what he wanted?  
  
 _No_ , Remus thought decisively. _Harry may think he wants to be alone, but he should not be alone right now. He needs to talk this out, or it is going to eat away at him until there is nothing left_. He stood up, brushed the dust off his robes, and quietly knocked on the door.  
  
"Harry?" he called. "It's me, it's Moony. May I come in?"  
  
"Just leave me alone, Moony," Harry answered roughly, his voice broken by sobs.  
  
Of course, asking permission to come in had only been a formality, and Remus opened the door softly. "Sorry, Harry, I won't do that."  
  
Harry sat up on the bed and glared at Moony through the tears that were still streaming down his face. "Lupin," he said, his voice hoarse but fierce. "I don't want you here. I want to be left alone. Can't you people give me five minutes of peace?"  
  
The older man noticed that Harry had called him "Lupin" and not "Moony" as he had become accustomed to, and he was slightly stung, but he understood immediately what Harry was trying to do. "Is this peace, Harry?" he asked. "Are you really feeling peaceful right now?" He moved towards the bed and made to touch Harry's shoulder, but Harry jerked away, refusing to look at his guardian.  
  
"Harry," Remus sighed, sitting down in the familiar armchair next to the bed. "I think you need to -"  
  
"To talk?" Harry interrupted rudely. "You always think I need to talk."  
  
"Harry, this is going to eat away at you if you don't talk about it."  
  
"And what, exactly, do you think you know about it?" Harry's response was hard and unfeeling, and his tears had quite stopped as his desperation had turned to anger.  
  
Remus closed his eyes for a moment, unable to look at the unmasked pain on Harry's face. He had hoped that Harry would tell him about the prophecy, and that he would not have to reveal that he already knew. He hadn't wanted Harry to feel that Dumbledore had betrayed his trust, but now, clearly, Harry needed to know that there was someone he could talk to about it, that there was someone else who knew.  
  
"Harry, I know," Remus said softly, his voice full of implied meaning.  
  
Harry's eyes widened slightly behind his glasses, which had fogged slightly from his tears. "You...know?" Surely, Moony was not referring to the prophecy. He probably meant that he knew what Harry was feeling about Sirius.  
  
As if reading his mind, Lupin placed his hand on Harry's forearm; this time, Harry did not pull away. "Yes, Harry, I know about the prophecy. Dumbledore told me after I was made your guardian and you were brought back here to stay with us." His words were gentle, almost whispered, as he searched Harry's face for his reaction.  
  
Instead of the anger he had expected, Harry's eyes became sad once again. "Then you know why it is so dangerous to be my friend, Moony. You know what I have to do."  
  
"Yes, Harry, I know what you have to do."  
  
"Then why are you still here? You should be as far away from me as you can be, Moony. I won't let anything happen to you; I won't lose anyone else! It's me, it's always been me, and there is nothing you can do about it, so stop putting yourself in danger trying to protect me! Voldemort is going to kill me; it's the only way this can end. Can't you see that?" Harry's voice rose in pitch as he finally put words to the thoughts that had been in the back of his mind since the beginning of summer.  
  
"Harry," Remus spoke urgently, very alarmed at the thoughts that had been running through Harry's head all this time. He had suspected that this was how Harry had been feeling, but to hear Harry, himself, say that he was going to die at Voldemort's hand was more than Remus could bear. "You say you can't lose anyone else, Harry? Well, neither can I. You are all I have left, and you can be damn sure that I am going to do everything in my power to protect you. You are _not_ alone. I will be there with you every step of the way." Moony's words came out in a torrent as he tried desperately to make Harry realize that he would not be pushed away.  
  
"But Moony," Harry said, his voice growing quieter once again, "it's me. You heard the prophecy. I have to do it alone. It's always been me. Sirius said..." his voice trailed off.  
  
"Sirius said what, Harry?"  
  
"He said that he died because of it, that my parents died because of it. They all died because of me. I won't let that happen to you, Moony. Or to Ron, or Hermione, or Ginny, or _anyone_ else!"  
  
Remus knew, of course, that Harry could not have talked to Sirius since he had died. He must be referring to the nightmares he had been having all summer. "Harry, Sirius didn't say that. That was your mind putting words into Sirius's mouth. It's how dreams work. You know that."  
  
Harry nodded. _I must sound so stupid_ , he thought, _talking about a dream as if it were real_.  
  
"Harry, listen to me, please," Remus began, searching desperately for the right words. "It may well be your destiny to be the one who defeats Voldemort, but that doesn't mean that we won't be right next to you, fighting with you. You don't have to bear this alone. You can't bear it alone. No one could, not even Dumbledore."  
  
Harry didn't say anything. He wanted to believe Moony. He wanted to know that he wasn't alone in this, but his need to protect the people he loved was too strong for him to allow himself to hope for help from his friends.  
  
"I know what you are thinking, Harry," Remus said softly. "And, as I have told you before, you are not going to be able to stop us fighting for you, and fighting with you. We will succeed, Harry. You will succeed. You are one of the most powerful wizards I have ever known."  
  
Harry laughed hoarsely. "Me?" he asked incredulously. "Voldemort would have killed me in the Department of Mysteries if Dumbledore hadn't gotten involved. I'm no match for him."  
  
"That's what you don't understand," Remus replied. "If you are going to accept the part of the prophecy that says that either you or Voldemort will have to die at the hands of the other, then you have to accept the rest of it, the part that says you _do_ have the power to vanquish him."  
  
Harry had never considered it from this angle before. He had to admit that it made some sense, but he still could not think of what power he had that made him the one who could kill Voldemort. "But I don't know how," he whispered.  
  
"That is what we are here for, Harry. Not only will we fight alongside you, but we are going to prepare you for your fight as well. The power within you, once harnessed, will be more than enough to do what you have to do. I've seen your power, Harry, and even before I knew the prophecy, I knew just how strong a wizard you were. And we will not let you fight that fight until you are ready."  
  
"I don't want anyone else to die," Harry said brokenly, voicing his final and most important concern.  
  
"Harry, I can't promise you that no one else is going to die. This is a war, and in a war there are casualties. But none of us will go quietly. All of us will fight. That is the best that I can say, and for all of us, it has to be enough."  
  
Despite himself, Harry was starting to feel, if not better, then at least calmer about his fate. He searched his guardian's eyes, and saw in them only love, and concern, and pride. No pity showed itself on Lupin's face, and it was that, if nothing else, that convinced Harry to try his hardest to learn what he needed to know. He started to feel some of the crushing weight come off his shoulders.  
  
Lupin smiled at the determination that came over Harry's face. The boy sat up a bit straighter, and even managed a small smile. "Thank you, Moony," Harry said.  
  
"Don't thank me, Harry. Just know that if you need me for anything, all you have to do is ask," Remus replied, hoping upon hope that this charge would finally allow himself to trust him, to rely on him. Harry needed someone, an adult, who he could confide in and who he could trust. Sirius had been that for him, and Moony thought that Harry might finally be ready to let someone else come in, not to take Sirius's place, but to pick up where he had left off.  
  
Harry surprised Moony greatly by doing something he had never done before, not even with Sirius. He turned and opened his arms to his guardian, hugging the man the way he imagined that he would have hugged his father, the way he had seen the Weasley boys hug theirs.  
  
Moony's eyes misted a bit as he returned the hug, but he allowed them to dry before he broke away and looked at Harry. "Now, what do you say we go on downstairs and have lunch? I'm not much on cooking, but maybe some sandwiches and butterbeer would suffice."  
  
Harry grinned; for the first time in a long time, he felt hungry. He got out of bed and followed Moony out of the room, but he could not possibly have prepared himself for what his guardian would say as they were tromping down the stairs.  
  
"So, Harry," Moony said with the faintest trace of amusement in his voice. "About Ginny..."


	14. The Journey Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry journeys to Hogwarts, looking forward to returning to the one place he really feels he belongs. Of course, the journey wouldn't be complete without a confrontation with Malfoy and some gossip with old friends!

The last week of summer sped by for Harry and the rest of the inhabitants of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place. His heart lightened considerably by his talks with Moony and the easy camaraderie of his best friends, Harry began sleeping more peacefully than he had in over a year, and as a result, by the time September first came, he was feeling more normal and his grins came more often and were more sincere.  
  
Mrs. Weasley woke everyone at seven on the morning of their journey north to Hogwarts, and after a rather hurried breakfast, the house rang out with the usual din of four disorganized students and as many harried adults.  
  
"Mum!" Ron called less than ten minutes before they were set to leave. "I can't find my prefect's badge!"  
  
"Ron!" Hermione exclaimed in an exasperated voice. "Of all the things to lose!"  
  
"Check with Fred and George," Harry suggested, remembering how the twins had stolen Percy's Head Boy badge the summer before and transfigured it to read "Bighead Boy".  
  
"Fred! George!" Mrs. Weasley shouted up the stairs. "If you have Ron's badge, I want you to return it immediately!"  
  
Fred and George, who had asked Lee Jordan to run the shop for the day so they could be part of Harry's guard to Kings Cross, shouted back indignantly that they had not touched Ron's badge.  
  
"Never mind," Ron said as he sheepishly emerged from searching his messily packed trunk, holding the badge. "I found it."  
  
Hermione sighed even as she smiled fondly at Ron. "Honestly, if you would only pack properly, Ronald."  
  
Over the past week, ever since they had spent the day at Diagon Alley, Ron and Hermione's relationship had solidified and come out into the open. Several times, Harry had come upon them in various stages of closeness around the house, always when they had thought they wouldn't be seen. Harry had been worried about feeling like an outsider if his two best friends began to date, but he found that he was so happy for them that he did not even notice a difference. He had, however, begun to spend more time with Ginny as Ron and Hermione began to spend more time on their own. While he didn't quite know how he felt about Ginny Weasley just yet, he was grateful for their friendship. She had a way of knowing exactly what he needed, whether it was a joke, an open ear, or even a telling-off, and he found that talking to her was just as easy for him as talking to Ron or Hermione.  
  
"All right, you four," Molly called. "I want your trunks downstairs now so Moody can get them ready for the journey!"  
  
Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny lugged their trunks and their various animal cages down the stairs to the entrance hall, stumbling into one another. As a reward for becoming a prefect, Ginny's parents had given her an owl of her own. Errol had finally become too old to make the long journeys to and from Hogwarts, so Ron's owl Pigwidgeon and Ginny's new barn owl, Sammy, were to handle all correspondence this year.  
  
They reached the front hall, and Harry immediately noticed something he had not been aware of the entire time he had been in the house. The wall near the front door was blank. There were no moth-eaten curtains, and more importantly, no screaming portrait of Mrs. Black. Harry stared at the spot where the painting had been, wondering how they had done it. Mrs. Weasley, Sirius, and the rest of them had not been able to take the portrait down the year before no matter how hard they had tried.  
  
Moony followed Harry's gaze and answered the unasked question. "The Permanent Sticking Charm was negated as soon as the house changed owners."  
  
"Changed owners?" Harry asked. "Who owns it now?"  
  
"I do," Remus replied quietly. "It is part of what Sirius left for me. You see, after my parents died, I often found myself with nowhere to go. Being a werewolf means, as you know, that finding a job is often difficult, and finding a flat can be as well, so Sirius left me this place."  
  
Harry smiled. "That's brilliant, Moony! I'm really glad you're going to be staying here." It was the first time that the mention of Sirius had not rendered him immediately sad, and Moony supposed that had to be a good sign. He was glad Harry was starting to remember Sirius with gladness; it was what his old friend would have wanted.  
  
Harry's expression darkened as he was reminded of another inhabitant of Number Twelve, Grimmauld place, one who he had blocked from his mind until this moment. He looked around in confusion for a moment and then asked, "Moony, what happened to Kreacher?"  
  
Remus grinned bitterly; he did not like to be reminded of the house elf's treachery. "I sent Kreacher from the house as soon as I got here. I believe he has gone to Narcissa Malfoy."  
  
Harry gasped. "Narcissa Malfoy! But, Moony, what about all the stuff he knows about the Order?"  
  
"That will not be a problem. Dumbledore had to place several very strong charms on Kreacher in order to make him reveal what his part had been in Voldemort's plot. Much like a strong memory charm, these measures rendered Kreacher quite incapable of reasonable speech or even thought. It was not intentional on Dumbledore's part; it was simply a side effect. I doubt Narcissa will find Kreacher useful in any way; in fact, I would be surprised if she has not killed him."  
  
Harry did not reply – his anger at Kreacher was great enough that he hoped the Malfoys had killed him. That sick creature deserved nothing less.  
  
Before Harry had a chance to ask any more questions, Molly came up to them. "Harry, did you keep your invisibility cloak out of your trunk like I told you to?"  
  
"Yes, Mrs. Weasley." The request had not surprised Harry. He supposed that he would be walking to King's Cross under the cloak, and knew it was probably for the best.  
  
"Good," Molly replied. "You will wear it until you are safely on the train, and then you will hand it out to one of us. Remus will wear it for the remainder of the journey."  
  
Harry stared at her. "The remainder of the journey?" he asked.  
  
"I will be accompanying you on the journey to Hogwarts, Harry," Remus told him. "I plan to stay under the cloak, however. We do not want the other students to know you are traveling with a guard, do we?"  
  
"I guess not," Harry replied. He was glad Remus would be traveling with him because he was not anxious to say good-bye, but at the same time, he felt a stab of annoyance that he was not even trusted to ride the train to school by himself. "Do you really think I'm going to be attacked on the train?"  
  
"Haven't you learned anything yet, boy?" growled Mad-Eye, who had come up behind them. "You can never be too careful. _Constant vigilance_!" He turned to Molly. "I've got the luggage ready. We need to be going."  
  
"Right," Mrs. Weasley said, relieved that Harry had not argued about Remus accompanying him on the journey. "Ron! Hermione! Ginny! It's time to go now!"  
  
Harry pulled on the invisibility cloak and followed the others out the front door. The walk to King's Cross was more than a bit nerve-wracking for him. It was, after all, the first time he had been out of doors all summer, and Harry kept looking over his shoulder to make sure they weren't being followed.  
  
At several points on the long walk he saw people he was sure were witches and wizards, even though they were dressed in Muggle clothing. For one thing, most of them seemed to pay more attention than was strictly necessary to the group of students and parents walking toward the station. For another, most of them had their hands tucked discreetly into their pockets or suit jackets, and Harry knew they were gripping their wands but unwilling to show them unless it was necessary. He figured they were either Aurors or members of the Order, and his suspicions were confirmed when he saw Dedalus Diggle, dressed as a businessman in a very old-fashioned brown suit and purple necktie, standing on a street corner in London, pretending to wait for the light to change.  
  
No one talked to Harry on the way; it was part of the plan to ensure that his presence remained undetected, although he knew Moody's magical eye had remained on him constantly. He was glad when they finally reached King's Cross, took it in turns to pass discreetly through the barrier between platforms nine and ten, and found a compartment on the rapidly-filling train. After he had closed the door to his compartment, Harry took off the invisibility cloak and handed it to Mad-Eye Moody, who was returning their trunks to normal size and stowing them and the protesting pets, who had traveled in their cages under Disillusionment and Confundus charms, in the luggage racks.  
  
Hermione, Ron, and Ginny only stopped off for a moment before rushing to the prefect's compartment at the front of the train, promising to return as soon as they could. Harry sat alone in the compartment for a few minutes, enjoying watching the other students as they bid goodbye to their families and gossiped with one another about the upcoming year. He marveled at how few cares most of them seemed to have – they knew now, without a doubt, that Voldemort had returned, but as it had not yet affected them directly, they found it easy to push the thought from their minds.  
  
Molly and Arthur Weasley entered Harry's compartment just as he was contemplating going to find some DA members to talk to, knowing that Mad-Eye could tell Moony which compartment was theirs. Molly immediately went to Harry and wrapped him in a tight hug. "Harry, dear, I want you to make sure you have a good lunch. Do you have your money bag with you? I see that your trunk is already here, and Hedwig. Now, I don't want you to worry about anything; just enjoy the journey."  
  
Harry smiled. This was Mrs. Weasley as he had known her for years, making sure that her children had everything they needed and wanting them to enjoy themselves. He broke away from the hug, assuring her that he indeed had everything he needed and that he would buy a good lunch when the trolley came around. Even though his appetite was quite back to normal, Molly had never stopped encouraging him to eat. She had still not forgotten the way he had looked at the beginning of summer.  
  
He shook hands with Mr. Weasley, and as they opened the door to leave the compartment he felt a slight jostle as someone he could not see brushed against him. "Moony?" he asked softly, wanting to make sure he knew who was in the compartment with him.  
  
"Yes, Harry, I'm here," Moony answered from under the cloak, and Harry heard the slight squeak of springs as his invisible guardian settled onto the bench seat. Harry was about to ask him if he needed anything when the compartment door opened once again, and a very flustered-looking Neville flopped onto the seat across from Remus, his trunk dropping onto Moony's invisible foot. Harry covered Remus's groan with a loud cough. Luckily, Neville didn't seem to notice as his trunk shifted slightly when Remus pulled his foot out from under it.  
  
"Glad I found you, Harry," he gasped. "Thought I'd never get away from Gran. She's put out with me because I forgot my Transfiguration book."  
  
"You made Transfiguration, then? Way to go, mate!"  
  
"Well, I got an 'A', but Gran talked McGonagall into letting me take the class on a trial basis. She reckons all I need is more confidence, and now that I have a wand of my own..."  
  
"You got a new wand, then?" Harry asked, not really wanting to talk about the Department of Mysteries, where Neville had broken his father's wand at the end of term last year, but not knowing what else to say.  
  
"Yeah!" Neville brightened considerably as he pulled a brand-new wand out of his pocket. "10 inches, mahogany, unicorn tail hair core. Neat, right? I've never had my own wand before. Do you reckon it'll help?"  
  
Harry remembered what Mr. Ollivander had told him before his first year about wizards never getting such good results with other people's wands. "Yeah, Neville! I bet it will!" Harry had been impressed with Neville's determination and skill in the DA last year, and he wondered how much having his father's wand had held him back.  
  
With a lurch and a whistle, the train finally started. After Neville had finished putting his things in the overhead bins, he asked Harry how his O.W.L.s had gone. It seemed that Neville also wanted to avoid any subjects that might be painful.  
  
"I got eight," Harry answered. "How about you?"  
  
"Well," Neville hesitated. "I got six."  
  
"Excellent, Neville! Which six did you get?"  
  
"I got an O in Defense Against the Dark Arts, thanks to you," Neville began, and continued before Harry could protest, "and an O in Herbology, and A’s in Transfiguration, Astronomy, History of Magic, and...Potions."  
  
"Potions?" Harry asked incredulously. "Wow!"  
  
"Yeah," Neville said, looking rather pleased with himself. "It's much easier without Professor Snape hanging over my shoulder, isn't it? Of course, I can't take N.E.W.T. Potions with only an 'A', but I wouldn't have wanted to anyway." Neville shuddered slightly. He was still terrified of Snape.  
  
"I bet your gran was really pleased!" Harry said.  
  
"She was. It was kind of strange, seeing her proud of me for a change. I don't think she expected me to get any O.W.L.s."  
  
"Of course she did, Neville," said Harry severely. "You know most of your problem is lack of confidence, not lack of ability."  
  
Neville blushed, and then, wanting to get the conversation off of himself, asked, "So, are we going to continue with the DA this year, Harry?"  
  
Harry frowned. He and Moony had talked about it. Moony thought it was a good idea because even though they would undoubtedly have a better Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher this term than Umbridge had been, he thought it wise for the students to have as much practice as possible in dueling and defense. Harry wasn't sure if anyone would want to be in the DA anymore, though, if they had a decent teacher. "I dunno," he answered. "If we have a good Defense professor, we may not need to."  
  
"Harry," Neville said, suddenly serious. "My gran said the war is going to start any day now, that You-Know-Who is just biding his time. Don't you think we need all the practice we can get?" Harry thought he felt a slight kick from the seemingly empty seat next to him as Neville echoed Moony's advice almost word-for-word.  
  
"I might call a meeting a couple of weeks after term starts to see what everyone thinks about it," Harry said, resigned to the fact that the members of the DA would likely want to continue, but not really knowing what else he had to teach them. "So, how about a game of Exploding Snap?" he asked, changing the subject. He got Ginny's well-worn deck of cards from his pocket. Knowing that he might need a diversion while she was at the prefect's meeting, she had lent them to him.  
  
For the next hour or so, Neville and Harry played increasingly competitive games while the train sped northward, and Moony watched them with satisfaction.  
  


* * *

  
Draco Malfoy was the first to emerge from the prefect's meeting in the front compartment. The others, the weasels and the Mudblood included, had stayed behind for a few moments to catch up with friends they had not seen all summer, and to ask the new Head Boy and Girl questions about their upcoming duties. Draco had no desire to talk to the idiots from the other houses, and Pansy Parkinson, the other Slytherin sixth-year prefect, was quite put out with him after he had refused to date her over the summer.  
  
Draco headed down the narrow corridor, keeping himself balanced even as the train lurched slightly over the old wooden tracks. He had another reason for leaving the meeting as soon as it had ended. He wanted to find Potter before his friends had a chance to get back to him. He had a score to settle.  
  
Halfway down the third car, he glanced through a compartment window to see Potter and Longbottom playing Exploding Snap. He stared for a moment, silently fuming, but composed himself quickly and opened the door, smiling sardonically as Harry and Neville looked up, expecting to see Ron, Hermione, and Ginny.  
  
"Hello, Potter," Draco drawled, lazily pulling his wand out of his pocket and aiming it at Harry, quite ignoring Neville.  
  
"Malfoy," Harry snarled, quickly drawing out his own wand and standing up, causing the Exploding Snap cards in his lap to emit several loud 'pops' as they hit the floor. He felt an invisible hand on his shoulder as Moony stood up behind him. "I'm only going to tell you to leave once."  
  
"Why should I leave, Potter?" Draco asked, looking around at the empty seats. "Seems you have plenty of room in here. Maybe I'll just stay awhile."  
  
Several more loud 'pops' sounded in the compartment as Neville stood up beside Harry, his own hand of Exploding Snap cards hitting the floor as well. "Get out, Malfoy," he said, his voice quite lower and more threatening than anyone had ever heard it before.  
  
"Stay out of it, Longbottom, if you know what's good for you," Malfoy responded, never taking his eyes off Harry. "So, Potter...been having any good _dreams_ lately?"  
  
Harry felt Moony's hand tighten on his shoulder. How did Malfoy know what had happened over the summer? His father was still in Azkaban. Even if Voldemort had been able to get to him there, there had been no reports that Lucius Malfoy had actually left the fortress at any time.  
  
Harry was not going to have this conversation with Draco Malfoy. On sudden inspiration, he replied smugly, "Why, yes, Malfoy. Thanks for asking. I had several pleasant dreams this summer, most of them involving a bouncing white ferret."  
  
Neville snorted, and Malfoy raised his wand, preparing to attack. Before he could say an incantation, however, Lupin, still under the invisibility cloak, pushed past Harry and knocked Draco's wand from his hand.  
  
"Dropped your wand, did you, Malfoy?" Harry laughed at the astonished and fearful look on the pale, pointed face.  
  
Draco recovered quickly. "I should have known you wouldn't be traveling alone, Potter. Who is it? One of the blood traitors? Or is it the werewolf?"  
  
"Watch yourself, Malfoy," Harry's voice lowered dangerously. "In case you didn't notice, I have a wand, and you do not. Now, I'm going to tell you one last time. Sod off."  
  
Malfoy assessed the situation. He did not know where the invisible person had gone, his wand was still on the floor, and Longbottom and Potter both had their wands trained upon him. "This isn't over, Potter," he snarled, and, picking up his wand before anyone could stop him, turned and left the compartment.  
  
Neville lowered his wand and looked around the compartment. "Harry?" he asked tentatively. "Who else is here?"  
  
Harry had been told not to reveal Moony's presence to anyone, but before he could think of an answer, Moony's voice came out from behind the cloak. "Remus Lupin, Neville. I'm traveling with Harry today, under his invisibility cloak."  
  
"Oh," said Neville, looking towards the corner of the compartment, where Lupin had once again retreated. "Professor Lupin? Why are you here?"  
  
"Oh, I just thought I would come along in case anything like this had happened. Although, I must say, you and Harry handled yourselves quite well enough without me. I was just trying to save Mr. Malfoy some embarrassment."  
  
Harry laughed, and Neville asked, "Can't you come out from under that cloak, Professor? It's weird, not being able to see you."  
  
"Sorry, Neville," Moony answered. "I don't really want to make my presence known on the train. I'm here to help Harry, not to cause any trouble." Neville nodded, and all three had just sat back down when the others arrived, followed closely by the witch pushing the lunch trolley.  
  
"Anything off the trolley, my dears?" she asked.  
  
Harry, feeling surprisingly chipper after the argument with Malfoy, bought the largest lot of food he ever had, and the rest of the train ride passed pleasantly as they swapped food, talked about O.W.L.s, new classes, and the other students Hermione, Ron, and Ginny had seen as they walked through the train on patrol. Since everyone in the compartment now knew he was there, Moony even joined the conversation, regaling them with some of his old stories from the Marauder days at Hogwarts, stopping only when other students came into the compartment to say hello, the former DA members all asking when the first meeting would be.  
  
Night feel around the train, and boys and girls took it in turns to stare out the window as their counterparts changed into their school robes. They disembarked from the train at Hogsmeade Station and smiled as they heard the familiar voice call, "Firs' years, over here!"  
  
Harry, knowing that Lupin needed a private place to remove the cloak, walked behind the last carriage, going carefully between the teams of thestrals pulling the carts. After looking around to check that they were alone, Moony pulled off the cloak and handed it to Harry, saying, "All right, Harry, this is where I leave you. You are going to be fine, and if you need anything, anything at all, you send Hedwig to me. Agreed?"  
  
Harry nodded, suddenly feeling a bit sad to be leaving his guardian, even as excited as he was to return to the school that felt like home. Moony pulled him gruffly into a one-armed hug, squeezed his shoulder, and Disapparated with a soft 'pop.'


	15. Draco's Choice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this short interlude, Draco Malfoy makes a choice that will change his entire life and purpose more than even he could guess.

As Draco Malfoy left Harry Potter's carriage, seething and humiliated, he silently rebuked himself for seeking a fight so early in the term. It was not that he was _afraid_ of Potter or anything stupid like that, but his father had given him a very clear warning the day before he had gotten on the train to go back to Hogwarts.  
  
"Be wary of Harry Potter, son," his father had warned him as they sat in the parlor of Malfoy Manor discussing plans for the upcoming year. "His time has not yet come, and the Dark Lord has his reasons for leaving him quite alone for the present."  
  
"I'm not afraid of Potter, Father," Draco had answered, feeling insulted.  
  
"Don't be obtuse, Draco," Lucius Malfoy had snapped. "Your feelings toward him are irrelevant. You are a servant of Lord Voldemort now, and you must not let your personal vendettas interfere with your mission."  
  
"But Father, it was because of him that you got landed in Azkaban," Draco had countered petulantly. "I thought you were one of the Dark Lord's closest followers. Doesn't that mean anything to him?"  
  
"Of course," Lucius had drawled. "I wasn't there for long, was I? Wormtail, that worthless, sniveling excuse for a Death Eater, was made to take my place, was he not? The Dark Lord has his uses for everyone. You will get your chance, my son, and our family will rise to the very top of the new regime when the war has been won. You must keep your patience until you receive more instructions."  
  
Draco had wisely held his tongue at that point, remembering the ceremony that had, only days before, made him irrevocably one of the followers of the Dark Lord. Patience had never been his strong suit, but he had felt firsthand what happened when his new Lord was displeased.  
  


* * *

_Four days earlier_

  
Draco's father woke him early one morning, one week before the new term was to start. Had it been his mother who had woken him at such an hour during the holidays, he would have complained, but Draco had learned long ago that countering his father was decidedly unwise. He rose without complaint, and hastily complied with his father's orders that he change into his black robes immediately and prepare to leave. He had only allowed himself to ask one question. "Where are we going, Father?" he had wondered. He and his mother had gone into Diagon Alley the week before to get his school things and his father was generally far too busy to take his son on outings, especially as most of the Wizarding world still believed him to be in Azkaban.  
  
"That is not for you to know at present, Draco," Lucius answered. "Do as I bid you and meet me downstairs in five minutes."  
  
Draco did not utter another word, but dressed quickly in his nicest set of black robes and hurried to meet his father downstairs. He wondered what this was about, and he felt more than a slight tinge of trepidation. Since his escape from Azkaban, his father had taken to staring at him in the oddest sort of way with an almost calculating look on his pale, pointed face. When Draco had asked rudely what Lucius meant by it, he had been sternly rebuked and sent from the room, so his curiosity over his father's attitude had gone unsatisfied.  
  
When he arrived downstairs he found his father dressed in his Death Eater regalia, but holding the accompanying mask loosely in his hands. "Come here, Draco," Lucius ordered, and Draco began to feel apprehensive. Was this what it seemed to be? Draco had not expected this to happen until after he was out of school, but what else could it be? As he approached his father, Lucius withdrew a length of black fabric and tied it over Draco's eyes. Through it all, the young Malfoy remained silent, his heart beating a rapid cadence in his chest.  
  
Satisfied that his son could see nothing through the blindfold, Lucius finally put his mask over his face, and gripped his son's shoulder as he led him to the fireplace. Draco heard the unmistakable "whoosh" of green flame as his father threw floo powder into the grate and muttered something that he could not understand. When his father's voice had changed into babble as he said the words, Draco's heart stopped. He now knew, without a doubt, where he was going. The Dark Lord was the Secret Keeper for the location of his headquarters, and that was the only reason Draco could think of for why he could not understand Lucius's words.  
  
Lucius pushed Draco into the flames, and Draco felt the familiar spinning sensation as he crashed through the floo network, landing hard on the stone floor of the stronghold of the most evil wizard in history. He had barely managed not to fall, and he stepped forward, his shoulder colliding painfully with the rough stone on the side of the fireplace. Just as he was about to put his hands to his face and remove the blindfold, he heard the "whoosh" of the flames behind him once again, and his father grabbed his arm roughly. "Not yet," he hissed.  
  
As Lucius kept a firm hand on his shoulder, guiding him around many twists and turns, Draco tried to guess where, exactly, they were. The air around them was damp, like a dungeon, but warm, quite unlike the chilly underground passages at Hogwarts. Draco also thought he detected a briny, salty smell. Seawater, he thought. We are somewhere near an ocean, but which one? In the magical world, travel time was not the indicator that it was in the Muggle world. Draco knew it was possible - probable, even - that he had traveled hundreds of miles in his short journey through the floo network.  
  
Lucius grip suddenly tightened as the pair stopped. Draco felt his father slowly untie the blindfold, and Draco blinked at the light of two torches flanking a solid oak door with dark iron fittings. He suddenly felt very nervous, but with the typical Malfoy pride, he kept his head up and did not allow his pale eyes to betray his fear. This was what he had been waiting for since the Dark Lord's return, after all.  
  
"Bring in the initiate," said a cold, high-pitched voice, quite unlike any voice Draco had ever heard. The door in front of them opened slowly with a loud creak, and Draco's cunning eyes quickly absorbed the rather intimidating scene in front of him.  
  
He was looking into a large, square room filled with many black-cloaked figures, all of whom were staring at him through masks identical to the one his father wore. The group was divided down the middle, creating a long aisle in the gray stone floor. Draco's eyes followed the aisle to a center of the room, to a raised platform on which stood a large, stone throne.  
  
When Draco saw the figure on the throne, his pride almost crumbled and he had to stifle a gasp of fear. The figure in front of him hardly looked human. The Dark Lord's face was deadly white, with red, snake-like eyes. It had no nose, only narrow slits where the nose should have been, and the mouth was curled into a grin that resembled a sneer more than a genuine smile.  
  
"Ah, young Mr. Malfoy," greeted the same high-pitched, hissing voice Draco had heard in the hall. "I have been expecting you."  
  
Lucius Malfoy gave his son a slight push forward, and Draco walked slowly up the aisle with his eyes straight ahead and his head held high, ignoring the masked faces that followed his progress. He wondered if his own mother, Narcissa, was among them. Although she was not in the Dark Lord's inner circle like his father was, Draco knew she was also a Death Eater. When he reached the foot of the raised stone platform, he looked unflinchingly into the red eyes of his new master, hiding his nervousness as he had been taught to do his entire life. A Malfoy never allowed his emotions to show plainly on his face.  
  
"Do you know why you have been brought here, Draco?" asked the Dark Lord.  
  
"Yes," Draco answered. In his anticipation, his answer came out rather more boldly than he had planned. It sounded almost like a challenge.  
  
"You were right, Lucius," Voldemort said to the masked man who had just taken his place on the right side of the dais. "He has much to learn about humility. Perhaps it would be wise, early on, to teach the boy his place."  
  
Lucius nodded, his eyes cold and unpitying under his mask as he stared directly at his son. He knew the boy was afraid, but he felt no compassion towards him; he knew that it was best if Draco learned early on what happened to followers with whom the Dark Lord was not pleased.  
  
"Crucio!" Voldemort said the incantation almost lazily as he pointed his wand at his young new follower.  
  
It was pain unlike anything Draco had ever experienced in his entire, pampered life. He felt as though his nerves were about to burst out of his skin, and he screamed like he had never screamed before. Voldemort did not hold the curse for long, however. He lifted his wand after only a moment had passed, sneering as Draco quickly tried to recover, wincing with every move.  
  
"I demand unquestioning obedience and humility in my presence, young Malfoy," he sneered. "Do you understand that now?"  
  
Draco no longer met the Dark Lord's eyes. "Yes, I understand," he whispered, the pain only just starting to recede to a tolerable level.  
  
"You will address the Dark Lord respectfully, Draco," Lucius ordered.  
  
"Yes, I understand, _My Lord_ ," Draco corrected, still not raising his eyes.  
  
"He learns quickly, Lucius. I believe he will be perfect for the task I need him to perform." The Dark Lord turned back to the young blonde man in front of him. He was very pleased with his new strategy as he told him, "I usually do not accept children into my circle, Draco, but in your case I will make an exception. Your father tells me you are quite sure where your loyalties lie and can be depended on. Is that correct? Look at me as you answer, boy. The Dark Lord will know if you are lying."  
  
Draco obediently looked back up into the red eyes of the Dark Lord. "I am ready, Master," he answered clearly, knowing that any hesitation on his part would have painful consequences.  
  
The Dark Lord was pleased. He saw no conflicting thoughts, no lies, in the boy's mind. "Very well, young Mr. Malfoy. Kneel before your new Master."  
  
Draco knelt, his eyes on the stone floor. He could feel the stares of everyone in the room.  
  
"Hold out your left arm," Voldemort instructed, and Draco immediately complied. He felt a searing pain as Voldemort touched the tip of his wand to Draco's exposed forearm and said the incantation, " _Proteus velieris insignia_." The burning subsided quickly as Voldemort lifted his wand and commanded Draco to stand.  
  
A short, thin Death Eater approached the right side of the dais and handed Lucius Malfoy a folded pile of robes with a mask laid neatly on top. Malfoy stepped forward and finally spoke to his son. "Draco Malfoy, pureblood descendent of the ancient house of your fathers, you are hereby initiated into this, the most elite circle of wizards in the modern world. Death Eater, step forward and receive your vestments."  
  


* * *

Potter has no idea what he is in for, Draco thought as he continued down the train, looking for Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle, who had been instructed to hold a seat until his return from the prefects' compartment. Draco had become, if it was possible, even more arrogant since he had achieved his new status as a Death Eater. It was almost painful to him that he could not reveal this to any of the other Slytherins, many of whom had Death Eater parents and all of whom would be extremely impressed, but he had been ordered by his Lord to keep his position secret from everyone. It was imperative to his mission that no one knew a Death Eater was inside of Hogwarts.  
  
His mission, thus far, was very simple. He was to watch Harry Potter without him or any of his sickening friends being any the wiser. He was to report to his Lord about what Potter was learning, and about any new powers he had. Draco had not learned of the prophecy - as a new member of the Death Eaters, no one, even his father, saw fit to give him much information. He scoffed at the idea that Harry Potter would achieve any powers that he, himself, did not possess. It was obviously not Potter's power, but his mother's sacrifice that had saved him when he was a baby. Potter was just a normal Gryffindor, a blind idiot who chose to befriend Mudbloods and blood traitors. Draco hated Potter with all of his being, and his most secret ambition was to be the one who took him down.


	16. The Sorting Hat's New Song

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Upon arriving at Hogwarts, Harry and his friends receive several surprises, not the least of which are the Sorting Hat's new song and a new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. Hermione is disappointed, Harry intrigued and anxious, and Ron elated after McGonagall meets with each of them privately, and Draco Malfoy begins his mission.

Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny managed to claim one of the last carriages to themselves as Neville went off in search of Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnegan, the other inhabitants of the Gryffindor sixth-year boys' dormitory. Ron leaned back on the wooden carriage seat and sighed dramatically, "Oh, I'm not ready for sixth year to start. Why don't you just wake me when we graduate, Hermione?"  
  
Hermione slapped Ron playfully on the arm. "If you're not ready for sixth year to start, then why has all you've been able to talk about for the past two weeks been the house Quidditch team? That doesn't happen on holiday, does it?"  
  
"Well, no," Ron said, straightening up, his eyes brightening at the introduction of his favorite topic, Quidditch. "Harry, you going to be back on the team this year, mate?"  
  
"Well," said Harry, "if I'm allowed. I got a lifetime ban last year, and last time I checked, I'm still alive."  
  
"Don't be stupid, Harry," Ginny snapped, not liking to remember how close he had come to not being alive. "That ban will be lifted, I'm sure, now that Umbridge woman is gone. Of course you're going to play, and I'm going to try out for Chaser."  
  
"Who do you suppose the new captain is going to be?" Ron asked the carriage at large.  
  
"Katie Bell," Harry answered immediately. "She's the most senior member on the team."  
  
"Yeah," Ron said, looking a bit disappointed. "She'll be good."  
  
"At least she won't be yelling all the time like Angelina," Hermione remarked, remembering the former captain's tirades at Harry when he had missed practice due to detentions with Professor Umbridge. "I've always thought Katie was very nice."  
  
"Yeah, she's nice enough," Ron answered. "But will that really make her a good captain?"  
  
"I'm sure she'll be a fine captain, Ron," Ginny told him. "Besides, with the three of us on the team, how can Gryffindor lose?"  
  
The conversation about the house Quidditch team continued until the carriages had halted in front of the impressive front entrance to the castle, the same doors Harry imagined in his mental fortress, which had grown stronger and more complete each day he had worked with Dumbledore. He felt an overwhelming sense of comfort, of safety, radiating off the stone walls of the castle, and the feeling only intensified as he walked with his closest friends through the door and into his second-to-last year of school.  
  


* * *

  
As prefects, Hermione, Ron, and Ginny had to sit near the front of the table, where the first years would sit once they got sorted, and Harry took a seat beside Ginny and grinned at Seamus Finnegan and Dean Thomas, who were waving at them from about halfway down the table. He had to admit that it was nice not to have half the students in the Great Hall pointing at him and whispering, believing the _Daily Prophet_ 's insinuations that he was a lunatic and a liar. Most of the glances he got tonight were friendly, not counting the usual sneers coming from the Slytherin table.  
  
"I hope the Sorting is quick this year," Ron said, just as he did at the beginning of every start-of-term feast. "I'm starving!"  
  
"Honestly," Ginny sighed. "You would think we hadn't all eaten five galleons worth of pumpkin pasties and chocolate frogs on the train this afternoon. Don't you ever think about anything but food?"  
  
"Not at the feasts," Ron grinned at her.  
  
There was a soft tapping of a knife on a goblet from the teachers' table, and all heads turned towards the front of the hall. Harry looked at the head table with interest. There was Hagrid, dwarfing all the other professors from his usual seat, and Professors Sinistra, Sprout, and Flitwick all looking attentively at the Headmaster in the center. Next to Professor Dumbledore stood Professor McGonagall's empty seat (she was waiting to lead the first years into the hall for the sorting). Professor Snape kept sneaking sideways glances at... _Tonks_ , who sat cheerfully next to him and looked quite sedate, sporting long, dark hair and a completely normal face with fair, creamy skin.  
  
" _Tonks_?" Harry whispered incredulously. He had wondered why she hadn't been part of his guard! Could she be the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher? Tonks noticed Harry and the others staring at her and gave a small wink, changing her nose subtly as they watched her, trying not to laugh.  
  
"Welcome to another year at Hogwarts!" Professor Dumbledore greeted his students with twinkling eyes and a small smile. "I am certain we have many things to say to one another, and some new faces to introduce, but first, let the Sorting begin!"  
  
The door to the Great Hall opened and Professor McGonagall led the usual line of frightened-looking first years between the long tables and to the front of the hall. She held the frayed and patched Sorting Hat in her arms, and after she had placed it on its small stool, the rip near the brim opened, and the sorting hat began to sing:  
  


_"A very long, long time ago,  
When I was just a hat,  
Sitting atop a young man's head  
If you'd have told me that_

_I'd be sitting in this proud hall  
Perched upon a stool  
Ready to Sort into houses  
The students of this school_

_I'd never have believed you  
For then, no brains had I  
Before the founders of the school  
In their wisdom high_

_Granted me discernment  
And cast into me their thoughts  
Of who should be in their houses  
And who, they thought, should not._

_Rowena Ravenclaw, the brightest witch  
Wanted those who had most wit  
So students with the sharpest minds  
Into her House I sit._

_Godric Gryffindor, the brave and strong,  
Wanted those of stoutest heart  
So I place the most courageous  
Into his House from the start._

_Helga Hufflepuff, the kindest soul,  
Above all valued friendship  
So I place the loyal and the true  
Into her House's kinship._

_Salazar Slytherin, most cunning one of all  
Wanted those with most ambition  
So I place into his House those  
Who will work their dreams into fruition._

_Ah, yes, I'll sort you, but I'm afraid  
That once again I'm wrong  
For more than ever, unity  
Should be the meaning of my song._

_War has come, make no mistake  
And of those who enter here  
Not all will return to their homes  
Such are the times, I fear._

_So band together, don't break apart,  
And a victory we'll win,  
I hope you'll heed my warning, and  
Let the Sorting now begin!  
_

  
The hat fell silent, and not even the slightest smattering of applause rang broke the unearthly quiet of the Great Hall. The students were all completely flabbergasted. The sorting hat had warned them of danger the year before, but it had never said that there were those among them who would not be returning home. What could that possibly mean? Surely the war wouldn't come to Hogwarts!  
  
After she took a moment to compose herself, Professor McGonagall began, as usual, reading from her long list of first years. "Adams, Rebecca!"  
  
A haughty-looking girl strode up to the hat, not looking a bit fearful. Harry and the others were not in the least surprised when the Sorting Hat took only a few seconds to cry out, " _SLYTHERIN_!"  
  
The first Gryffindor to be sorted was a very small, timid-looking girl with brown braided pigtails and rosy cheeks. When Professor McGonagall had called out, "Davies, Sylvia," she had walked slowly up to the hat and put it on, as Harry was reminded of his own trip to the front of the hall to be sorted. He sympathized with her. The hat did not take long to proclaim, " _GRYFFINDOR_ ," and the girl took the hat off and scampered gratefully to sit next to Hermione, who smiled warmly at her.  
  
Not long after that, Ron had started to stare longingly at his golden plate, wishing it would fill so he could quiet the rumbling of his stomach. Finally, "Young, Alexander" was sorted into Ravenclaw and Dumbledore stood up to beam at his students from behind the teacher's table.  
  
"Welcome, first years and returning students! I am happy to see you all looking so well tonight. I know you are hungry, so I will go through our start-of-term notices as quickly as possible." His eyes flicked over to Ron for just the slightest moment, as if he could hear Ron's stomach grumbling.  
  
"First, I would like to inform all first years, as well as some returning students who seem not to have heard my previous warnings, that the forest on the edge of the grounds is forbidden. This year, you will find that strict security measures have been placed on the forest boundaries, and no one will enter or leave the forest undetected." Harry knew that this had been done more to stop people coming in than people going out, but he did not so much as exchange a glance with the others.  
  
"Secondly, I am pleased to introduce our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Nymphadora Tonks. Professor Tonks is an Auror, and so is highly qualified for the position. We are fortunate that she has taken time away from her duties at the Ministry to serve in this post." The Great Hall erupted with vigorous applause. Most of the students had no idea who Professor Tonks was, but everyone was extremely grateful to have a teacher other than Professor Umbridge and thought that taking classes from an Auror would be the absolute height of cool. No one, however, clapped more loudly than Ron, Ginny, Harry, and Hermione.  
  
Dumbledore continued, "Our caretaker Mr. Filch has asked me to remind you that the use of magic in the corridors between classes is strictly prohibited and that he has expanded his list of forbidden items to include portable swamps, skiving snackboxes, and generally anything else that can be purchased at Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes or Zonko's Joke Shop. The full list is, as always, posted on the door to his office."  
  
Ron sniggered, but Harry wondered how Dumbledore had found out about the skiving snackboxes - for the most part, they had not been put into use until after the Headmaster had been temporarily replaced by Dolores Umbridge. Perhaps the twins had told him?  
  
"Having said that, however," the Headmaster said, smiling gently at all of them, "I want you all to have a good year, and by that I do not mean simply to study hard, although that is very important as well. I want you all to have fun this year, to play games and make jokes. By allowing our enemies to alter our lives, we have already given them a victory. Enjoy your time in school, for believe me when I say you will miss it when it is gone.  
  
"And, now, I believe I have only one thing more to say," he added, and when he spoke again, Ron also said the words, considerably more quietly, " _Tuck in_." The plates and goblets filled immediately with the usual assortment of delicious-looking food. Harry heard Sylvia Davies' sharp intake of breath when the mountains of food materialized in front of her, while the other first years at the table, though impressed, did not seem as surprised. He wondered if she, like he, had been brought up having no idea about the magical community, but he never got a chance to ask her as Ron began piling huge amounts of steak and kidney pie, mashed potatoes, bread and vegetables onto Harry's plate.  
  
"Mum's orders," Ron said in answer to Harry's incredulous look, now shoveling large amounts of food onto his own plate. "She said to make sure you ate enough."  
  
"But she didn't tell you to choose what Harry ate, Ron!" Ginny broke in.  
  
"I'd have to be Goyle's size to eat all of this, anyway!" Harry laughed. Ron had served him enough food for three people.  
  
"Hey!" Ron protested, looking down at his own plate, which contained even more food than Harry's.  
  
Everyone laughed and began to eat. Despite his protests, Harry was quite hungry. Ron, who had, after all, been taking three meals a day with Harry for five years, had selected the dishes that Harry liked best, and everyone was silent for a few minutes while they all concentrated on their dinners.  
  
Just as the puddings appeared and Harry was about to serve himself a large piece of treacle tart, a shadow fell over them. Harry turned quickly, instantly on alert, but relaxed when he saw Tonks, grinning fit to burst.  
  
"Tonks!" Hermione cried, earning several curious looks from nearby students who wondered why she had greeted this new professor so informally. She blushed and corrected herself. "I mean, Professor Tonks."  
  
"Hello, everyone," Tonks smiled, and then lowered her voice so only Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny could hear her. "You lot can still call me Tonks as long as we're on our own, all right?"  
  
"Right, Professor," Harry said, grinning at her. He, too, lowered his voice. "So, is this what you really look like?" He was not sure if she would want the other students to know she was a Metamorphmagus.  
  
"Right-O, Harry," she answered softly but cheerfully. "This is me as I am naturally. However, it might be best if we kept my...special abilities to ourselves, okay?"  
  
All four of them nodded, and Harry was quite relieved that he had thought to lower his voice before he had asked about her looks. Now that he knew he had seen the "real" Tonks, he couldn't help but notice that she looked a bit like Sirius. _Well_ , he thought, _they are cousins, after all, so why am I so surprised_?  
  
Ginny noticed the sad look on Harry's face as Tonks walked back up to the teacher's table, and she thought she knew why. In her true form, Ginny thought that Tonks really resembled Sirius, with her black, wavy hair and pale complexion. She wanted to take Harry's hand, to say something comforting, but before she could summon the nerve to do either, Professor McGonagall had come up to the table.  
  
"Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger," she said crisply. "I would like to have a word with each of you in my office. Miss Weasley, I trust that you and Mr. Creevey can escort the first years to Gryffindor Tower?" Ginny nodded and went to find Colin, who had forgotten that he was supposed to sit at the top of the table and was having a lively discussion with his brother Dennis near the other end.  
  
Harry had barely registered that Colin Creevey had been made a prefect before his mind kicked into high gear and he frantically tried to think what he could have done to warrant a meeting with McGonagall on the first day of term. Noticing that Ron's expression was quite as worried as his own must have been, Harry followed McGonagall out of the Great Hall.  
  
When they reached McGonagall's office, she asked Ron and Harry to remain outside while she spoke to Hermione alone. They obeyed, of course; you did not argue with Professor McGonagall unless the issue was worth a severe telling-off. Shooting a curious glance at her friends, Hermione followed the professor into her office, and the door closed magically behind them.  
  


* * *

  
"What d'you reckon _this_ is about?" Ron asked Harry with a worried glance at the closed door.  
  
"Dunno," Harry answered, quite as mystified as Ron. "Have we done something to set her off?"  
  
"If it was just you and me, mate, I'd be worried about that," Ron said, "but Hermione? She never does _anything_ wrong!"  
  
"Right," said Harry, and Ron suddenly looked at him with an expression of dawning realization. "What?" Harry asked him.  
  
"I bet it's about you, Harry," Ron replied, looking away from him. He knew this would annoy his best friend, but he could not guess why else McGonagall would have wanted to talk to them.  
  
"Come off it, Ron," Harry grumbled, but even as he said the words, he wondered if Ron was right. The adults in his life had certainly not trusted him to be on his own so far, and why should it be any different now he was at school? He supposed McGonagall was probably asking Hermione to take it in shifts with Ron to make sure someone was always with him, and the thought irritated him to no end.  
  
Before he had time to think any further on it, the door opened, and Hermione strode out quickly, furious tears streaking her cheeks. "She wants you now, Harry," she said shortly as she hurried past them and down the hall, ignoring Ron as he called anxiously, "Hermione, what's the matter?"  
  
After seeing Hermione in such a state but not being able to follow her and find out what had happened, Harry had worked himself up into an almost panicked mindset as he went through Professor McGonagall's office door and heard it magically shut behind him.  
  
Harry was panicked and irritated enough that he started speaking before Professor McGonagall even had a chance to tell him why she had called him in. "Professor, I know you've asked Hermione to watch me, and I'll have you know that she already does! I hardly ever get time to be on my own as it is, and now I _never_ will! Hogwarts is safe, isn't it? Why can't I just be left alone?"  
  
McGonagall glared at him sternly, reminding him with her eyes that he was being incredibly rude. "Sorry, Professor," Harry mumbled, not really meaning it.  
  
"Potter, I have not called you in here to discuss whether or not you will be watched while you are at school, and I did not feel the need to instruct Miss Granger to do any such thing because I am confident that your friends will be near you most of the time. I had another matter to discuss with Miss Granger."  
  
Harry was surprised. If that was not the reason they had been called in, what did McGonagall want to talk to him about? He looked up at her, the anger in his face replaced by nervousness. He must have done something wrong, although he could not think what...unless it had been the argument with Malfoy on the train...but Harry felt as though, far from being reprimanded, he was to be commended on his restraint at not cursing Malfoy into a thousand tiny pieces.  
  
"I wanted to discuss your timetable with you," she continued, smiling to herself at Potter's obvious unease. She would have to ask Remus Lupin if anything had happened on the train to give the boy a guilty conscience, because she knew that nothing had happened from the time he had reached school.  
  
"My timetable?" Harry asked blankly.  
  
"Yes, your timetable," she continued impatiently. "I see you have registered for six N.E.W.T.-level classes, and I am afraid I am going to have to ask you to drop one of them."  
  
"But I need all those classes to become an Auror!" Harry protested, not even thinking to ask why she was requesting this of him.  
  
"You need five of them to become an Auror. Care of Magical Creatures is not required," she corrected.  
  
Harry stared at her. Drop Care of Magical Creatures? He would never get to see Hagrid. Why did she want him to do this? It seemed so out of character. He looked at her questioningly, not daring to protest.  
  
"Professor Dumbledore wishes you to have a free period in which to continue with your Occlumency training, as well as some other special training he has in mind."  
  
"Oh," was all Harry said. He had known that he would continue his training with Professor Dumbledore, but he had thought he would do it in the evenings, as he had with Snape. And what other training was she referring to?  
  
"You will have to speak to Professor Dumbledore about his specific plans for you," Professor McGonagall continued. "I will remove Care of Magical Creatures from your timetable. Are there any other questions you wish to ask?"  
  
Harry knew that any further questions would really have to be posed to Dumbledore himself, as they all were about the special training Harry was to have. He shook his head wonderingly.  
  
"Very well, then, you may go back to your dormitories. Please tell Mr. Weasley to come in." Professor McGonagall dismissed him with a slight nod, and he rose to leave.  
  
"Oh, and Potter?" she called after him. He turned. "I am sure it is unnecessary to tell you that your Quidditch ban is no longer in effect, now that there has been a change of staffing at the school. I expect to see you as Gryffindor's Seeker once again." She smiled slightly at his surprised look, and then gestured once again towards her door, which opened automatically for him.  
  
"What was that all about, mate?" Ron asked him nervously as soon as he was back out in the corridor.  
  
"Nothing much," Harry replied. "We're not in for it, or anything. She just wanted to talk to me about my timetable."  
  
"What about your timetable?" Ron asked in confusion.  
  
"I have to drop Care of Magical Creatures so I can keep working with Dumbledore on Occlumency," Harry replied. "Dunno what she wants to see you about. She said it wasn't about me."  
  
Ron still looked worried as Professor McGonagall called sharply, "I have not got all night, Mr. Weasley. You may talk to Potter later."  
  
With one last look of deepest trepidation, Ron walked slowly into the office, and the door, once again, closed of its own accord.  
  
Harry briefly considered going on to the common room, not knowing how long Professor McGonagall's meeting with Ron would take, but then he decided that he would rather wait on his friend. If Hermione was going to be in the same state she had been in when she left McGonagall's office, he thought it would be best if he and Ron were together when they faced her and found out what was wrong. Besides, Ginny would already be in the common room. She could stay with Hermione for a few more minutes.  
  
Harry paced restlessly back and forth along a short space of corridor in front of the office door. He was very curious about this special training he was to receive from Professor Dumbledore. He would be working on dueling in Defense Against the Dark Arts, he was sure, and Dumbledore was already teaching him Occlumency - what else did the old wizard have up his sleeves?  
  
Harry knew that his time to fight Voldemort was not far into the future. He doubted he would have even left school before it happened, and he knew that he was going to have to find a way to defeat the Dark Lord. Once again, Harry wondered what power that he could have against this experienced and deadly wizard. He stopped in his tracks as a disturbing thought occurred to him. Dumbledore was going to work with him on the Unforgivables...most specifically, the Killing Curse.  
  
At this thought, Harry's pace became quicker and more agitated. According to the prophecy, either he or Voldemort would have to die in before the war could end; it was the only way.  
  
" _For either must die at the hand of the other, for neither can live while the other survives..._ "*  
  
Harry felt sick as he heard the words of the prophecy replay in his mind. He did not want to learn the Killing Curse, and he doubted that even with Professor Dumbledore's instruction, that he would ever be able to perform it, even on Voldemort. Bellatrix Lestrange's evil cackle popped into his head, quite unbidden and definitely unwanted:  
  
" _Never used and Unforgivable Curse before, have you, boy? You need to mean them, Potter! You need to really want to cause pain - to enjoy it - righteous anger won't hurt me for long..._ "*  
  
As much as he hated to give heed to anything that evil woman had said, he wondered if she had not been right. After Sirius's death, Harry had been nearly blinded by rage, by the need to avenge his godfather...and yet, he had not been able to effectively wield the Cruciatus Curse on Sirius's murderess. If he had not been able to do it then, why would anyone think he would ever be able to do it?  
  
Harry stopped his pacing suddenly and sat down heavily on the floor outside of McGonagall's office, running his hands through his hair in his disturbance. There had to be some other way to achieve Voldemort's defeat. If the Killing Curse was the only possibility, Harry did not know what chance he had.  
  
The door to McGonagall's office opened, and Harry stood quickly, anxious to find out what the professor had wanted with Ron. Quite unlike Hermione, Ron emerged from the office with a huge grin on his face, his cheeks flushed with excitement.  
  
"Ron?" Harry asked in amazement. "What's up?"  
  
"Harry!" Ron suddenly seemed to notice his friend standing beside him as he began the long walk to Gryffindor Tower. "You won't believe it! I don't believe it!"  
  
"What, Ron?"  
  
"I've been made Quidditch captain!" Ron exclaimed rapturously, and Harry quite forgot his earlier consternation as his stopped in his tracks and grinned broadly at his friend.  
  
"Wow, mate!" Harry congratulated him. "That's brilliant, that is! You'll make a great captain!" Harry noticed that he felt none of the hard feelings he had felt when Ron had made prefect last year. He knew that he would not have time for the captaincy; besides, even if he, Harry, was a good Seeker, Ron knew much more about Quidditch.  
  
"Thanks!" Ron said, his grin growing even wider. "There was a condition though."  
  
Harry was curious. A condition? That didn't sound like McGonagall.  
  
"Yeah, just one condition," Ron continued. "I have to officially make you Seeker again."  
  
"Well, are you, then?"  
  
"You prat!" Ron exclaimed, punching Harry in the arm. "Who else was I going to have as Seeker? Neville Longbottom?"  
  
The two boys grinned yet again as they each remembered Neville's first flying lesson five years ago, in which his broom had gone out of control and he had wound up falling off and breaking his wrist. As they reached the common room, both boys were still grinning hard, sure that the Quidditch Cup would be theirs again this year.  
  


* * *

  
A fair distance behind the two Gryffindors, a solitary figure with blonde hair and a pale, pointed face waited until they had gone through the seventh-floor portrait hole into Gryffindor tower, and then stepped out from behind the statue of Horatio the Hapless and turned to go to the dungeons. He had been observing them ever since McGonagall had called them from the Great Hall, and he was anxious to give his report.  
  
Draco had been told that Harry Potter was learning Occlumency to try and defend himself from Voldemort's mental attacks, but he found it interesting that their idiot of a Headmaster had required Potter to put aside an entire class period for it - was Occlumency all they would be working on? He sneered. Any skill Potter could possess in Occlumency would be no match for Draco's father and no match for the Dark Lord...still, he knew the Dark Lord would find it significant that Potter was to continue his training with Dumbledore.  
  
As he stepped down the many staircases back into the Entrance Hall, he couldn't help but let out a derisive laugh at the thought of Weasley's excitement over being made Quidditch captain. _That Muggle-loving fool_ , he thought. _Gryffindor will be pushovers this year with that idiot as their captain_. He had also not missed the obvious affection between Weasley and the Mudblood, Granger. He snorted. Leave it to a Weasley to fall for someone like _her_.  
  
He pushed these thoughts from his head as he reached his destination in the dungeons, not the Slytherin common room, but another room, one that only he knew existed. He stared at a blank space of stone wall, glanced around to ensure he was alone, and tapped it with his wand. The stones opened, revealing a small, pitch-black gap. As Draco entered the wall closed behind him, and he knelt. "I am here, my Lord."  
  


* * *

  
When Harry and Ron entered the Gryffindor common room, they found that most of the students had already gone up to their dormitories to unpack their trunks and settle in for another term. Ginny was sitting near the fire in Harry's favorite chair talking earnestly to Hermione, who still looked furious. Harry's and Ron's grins faded slightly as they went over to her. Whatever had happened in McGonagall's office, Hermione was clearly still very unhappy about it.  
  
"She just doesn't understand, does she?" Hermione was saying to Ginny as the boys came into earshot.  
  
"Understand what, Hermione?" Ron asked as he sat down beside her on the sofa and put an arm about her shoulder. " _You_ didn't get a telling off for something, did you?"  
  
Hermione shrugged his arm from her shoulders and replied scathingly, "Of course I didn't get told off, Ron; I haven't done anything wrong."  
  
"Then what's the matter?" Ron looked affronted that she had refused to let him touch her.  
  
"Professor McGonagall is only letting her take six classes," Ginny explained. "She's had to drop Care of Magical Creatures, Astronomy, Divination, History of Magic, and Muggle Studies."  
  
"Divination!" Harry interjected. "But you dropped that third year! What's that got to do with anything?"  
  
"It's not just Divination, Harry," Hermione spoke furiously. "It's the other classes, too! And I'll have you know that I got an 'O' in Divination. I studied hard for it, and even if I don't have the 'Inner Eye' as Trelawney says, I have got the basics of the different forms."  
  
"You took the Divination exam?" Ron asked. "But you haven't taken Divination in years!"  
  
"Ronald, you are not limited by the classes you have actually taken. You're allowed to sit any exam that you like! Honestly, didn't you read the _Guide to Magical Testing Procedures_ that McGonagall handed out last term?"  
  
"Hermione, I don't even remember getting anything like that," Ron replied, shrugging. "I must have binned it."  
  
Hermione let out her breath in a loud hiss. It was obvious that anything anyone said right now would annoy her greatly. "I'm going to bed," she said shortly, and got up to leave without asking Harry and Ron what McGonagall had wanted to see them about.  
  
"Wait, Hermione!" Ron exclaimed. "I have something I have to tell all of you!"  
  
"What then, Ron?" Hermione said irritably.  
  
"I've been made Quidditch captain!"  
  
There was a loud squeal as Ginny Weasley jumped out of her chair and threw her arms around her brother. "Ron! That's wonderful! Oh, it's going to be the best year ever! You'll put me in as Chaser, won't you? Oh, I can't wait for the season to start!"  
  
"Ginny, you'll have to try out with everyone else," Ron told her, but he was grinning so widely his face looked in danger of splitting in two. Ginny broke off the hug and socked him in the arm.  
  
"Ow! What'd you want to go and do that for?"  
  
Ginny didn't answer, just grinned at her brother. She was excited for him, and she knew he would be a fantastic captain. She had never met anyone, even Bill and Charlie, who knew as much about Quidditch as Ron.  
  
Hermione had even found it in herself to smile. After Ginny had released Ron, she went over to him, wrapping her arms around his waist and standing on tiptoe to give him a kiss. "Congratulations, Ron," she said.  
  
Ron's face went red at having had his girlfriend kiss him right in front of his best friend and his sister, but he looked pleased nonetheless. Harry and Ginny grinned at each other. Aside from Hermione's frustration at only being able to take six N.E.W.T. classes, they thought there had never been a better start to a new term.  
  


* * *

  
 **Author's Note** : The bit of prophecy and the memory of Bellatrix Lestrange's taunts regarding Unforgivable Curses are direct quotations from _Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix_.


	17. A Surprise Attack

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Professor Snape makes an interesting choice for the first N.E.W.T. potion of the term, and Harry gets attacked by an unexpected source.

After Harry put all of his things away in the chest next to his bed, changed into his pajamas and taken a drink of water from the jug, he took a small vial out of his trunk and considered it. Moony had given him the vial before they had left Grimmauld Place. It contained a Dreamless Sleep Potion.  
  
"You don't have to take this, Harry, if you don't want to," Remus had told him seriously. "But here it is if you want it. After this, if you feel you need some all you have to do is ask Madam Pomfrey. I've spoken to her, and she will monitor your use of the potion."  
  
Harry thought about it. It made him feel weak to admit that he might need the potion on his first night back at school. _After all_ , he thought, _nothing bad has happened since my birthday. Why would it now_?  
  
He had almost decided to save the potion for another time when he looked furtively around at his roommates. Neville, Seamus, and Dean were already sleeping, the scarlet hangings drawn around their beds. Harry was not surprised; he, Ron, Ginny and Hermione had stayed up talking, and it was nearly midnight. Ron, having finished putting his things away, was yawning widely as he changed into his pajamas. Harry decided that he did not want to risk waking his roommates up on the first night of term. He bid goodnight to Ron, pulled the hangings around his bed, and drank the potion without another thought. He was soundly asleep in minutes.  
  


* * *

  
When Harry woke early the next morning, he was glad he had taken the potion. As his roommates stirred around him, Harry quickly pulled on his robes and stuck his wand in his pocket, forgoing his bookbag until he knew what classes he would have today. He felt relaxed, well-rested, and ready for whatever the day would bring.  
  
He and Ron met Hermione and Ginny in the common room ten minutes later, and the four headed down to the Great Hall. Ron and Hermione held hands in a sickeningly sweet sort of way, and Ginny and Harry walked behind them, rolling their eyes and snickering.  
  
When they reached the Great Hall and began serving themselves breakfast (Ron kept shooting furtive glances at Harry's plate, but did not try to serve him again), they discussed their classes. For the first time, Harry, Ron, and Hermione would not be together in all of their classes, and it was not without a slight bit of trepidation that they all received their timetables from Professor McGonagall. Ginny was a bit nervous as well; this was her O.W.L. year, and she remembered only too well how stressful classes has been for her brother and his friends the year before.  
  
Harry took one look at his timetable and groaned. This was going to be a hard year, academically. All N.E.W.T. classes were double periods, and they were only allowed to take six, which left sixth- and seventh-years more study time than their younger counterparts. Suddenly, Harry realized that it was not something to be envied; they would need every moment of it.  
  
"Harry," Hermione said, looking sideways at his timetable. "It says you have free periods on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Fridays. That can't be right - you passed enough O.W.L.s to have a full schedule."  
  
Not having wanted to take any of the attention off of Ron and his captaincy, Harry had not mentioned his private lessons with Dumbledore to Hermione or Ginny the night before, so he lowered his voice and told them all about his conversation with McGonagall. He didn't mention the bit about the additional special training that Dumbledore was planning. He wanted to find out what it was before he told anyone; his friends didn't know about the prophecy yet and he didn't know how he would explain why Dumbledore would want him to learn the Unforgivables without telling them.  
  
"Oh, of course!" Hermione answered when he had told them about the additional Occlumency lessons. "Well, that's good, isn't it?"  
  
"Yeah," Harry replied, but the look on his face was so much more pensive than usual that they all immediately knew he was holding something back.  
  
"Harry, what is it?" Ginny asked tentatively, and he immediately tried to arrange his face into a more casual expression.  
  
"Nothing," he lied. "I'm just dreading Potions this morning, that's all. I can't think of a worse way to start the week."  
  
"Maybe Professor Snape won't be too bad now we've made the N.E.W.T. class," Hermione said unconvincingly.  
  
"Don't count on it," Ron said darkly. "I don't envy you two. Personally, I'm glad to be shut of the old - "  
  
"Ron!" Hermione hissed. "You are still a prefect, and the first years could easily overhear!"  
  
"I say 'forewarned is forearmed,'" Ron grumbled, but much more softly. Harry and Ginny both nodded vigorously.  
  
"Well, unless we want to be late and upset Professor Snape right off, we'd best be going," Hermione said, ending the conversation and giving Ron a quick kiss on the cheek before standing up. "We've got to go to the dormitory and get our books and then get back down to the dungeons, and we've only got twenty minutes! Come on, Harry."  
  
"You two have fun!" Ron called after them smugly, glad that he wouldn't have to deal with Snape this year.  
  


* * *

  
With Hermione's constant insistence that they hurry, she and Harry arrived in Snape's dungeon with a full five minutes to spare. Harry tried to catch his breath as he swung his book bag onto the table he was to share with Hermione, and he looked around as his classmates filed in.  
  
As he had fully expected, most of the class consisted of Slytherins, including, of course, Draco Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson. They did not sit together; instead, Pansy threw a disgusted look at Draco as she flounced dramatically across the room to sit with another Slytherin sixth year. To Harry's great surprise and consternation, Draco dropped his bag on the table right in front of the one he was sharing with Hermione. Although he shot a blatantly malevolent look at them, he did not say a word. Harry couldn't help but notice that away from his rather large cronies, Malfoy seemed smaller than usual. However, he carried himself even more arrogantly than he had in the past, and Harry wondered what the change could be. Malfoy just seemed _different_ somehow.  
  
Because of Snape's requirement of an outstanding O.W.L. to gain entrance, this class was unusually small. Besides the eleven Slytherins that Harry had counted, the only other students were Harry, Hermione, Parvati Patil and her Ravenclaw twin, Padma, Justin Finch-Fletchley and Susan Bones from Hufflepuff, and Ernie Macmillan and two other Ravenclaws who Harry did not recognize. Hermione and Harry exchanged friendly greetings with the non-Slytherin students, most of whom were D.A. members, but before they had a chance to say anything besides the usual pleasantries, the door to Snape's office opened and the greasy-haired professor stalked into the room. Everyone fell silent.  
  
"Welcome to N.E.W.T.-level Potions," Snape said, his voice anything but welcoming. "Although I expected many of you to make this class, I did have a few surprises when O.W.L. results came back." He glared at Harry, and then moved his gaze to Justin and Susan. "Needless to say, now that you have proven what you are capable of, I will expect nothing less than the best from each of you, and from the beginning, I will mark all assignments to N.E.W.T. standard."  
  
Harry could feel Hermione straighten attentively as Snape continued, "It seems that there are those among us who have never performed to their potential in this class." Again, he glared at Harry. "That will no longer be tolerated."  
  
Harry bit his tongue as he willed his face to remain neutral. He wanted to shout at Snape that the reason many of them had done poorly in Potions had nothing to do with their abilities on the subject matter, but everything to do with Snape's constant criticism and belittling of anyone who was not in his own house. Wisely, however, Harry decided to remain silent.  
  
"I do not have time to waste on revision if we are to cover everything necessary in this class," Snape sneered. "We will begin immediately on your N.E.W.T. work." He flicked his wand at the blackboard behind his desk, and many rows of his spiky handwriting appeared. Before even reading the instructions, Harry could tell simply by the long list of ingredients and procedures that Snape had, as usual, set them an extremely difficult potion for their first day in class.  
  
"These," Snape indicated the board, "are the instructions for the Wolfsbane potion." Harry was slightly startled. Why had Snape chosen to teach them this particular potion today? "This potion is a partial antidote for the werewolf transformation. Can anyone tell me why it is only partial?"  
  
Hermione raised her hand, and Harry immediately followed suit. Of course, they knew of the Wolfsbane potion from the time they had spent with Moony since third year. No one else, however, raised their hands.  
  
Snape raised his eyebrows at the rest of the class. "Not at all what I would have expected," he commented. "N.E.W.T.-level Potions students who can't even answer the simplest question for such a common potion. I see that none of you have seen fit to open a book this summer. How disappointing. Wolfsbane - " As usual, he ignored Hermione and Harry as they kept their hands pointedly in the air.  
  
Just as Harry put his hand down, Hermione predictably spoke out, "Sir, the Wolfsbane potion is only considered a partial antidote to the werewolf transformation because, while it allows the taker to retain his or her normal human mind during the transformation, it does not prevent the physical changes during the full moon."  
  
"Miss Granger, I did not call on you," Snape began, and Harry just knew he was going to take points from Gryffindor. Harry was surprised when Snape continued, "but your answer is correct. However, if you wish to remain in this class, you will remember that you are not to speak until you are called upon." Hermione nodded, as surprised at Harry that Snape had not taken points. Calling out answers in class was one area in which Hermione had barely improved since her first year, and neither could remember a time in which Snape had let it go this easily.  
  
"Now, before Miss Know-It-All Granger interrupted, I was going to tell you that Wolfsbane must be taken daily for the entire week prior to each full moon. Just one missed dose and the transformation will go on as normal, with the victim transforming both in mind and in body." Harry shuddered at this. In his third year, he had seen what had happened to Remus during a transformation after he had forgotten to take the Wolfsbane. He never wanted to see that again.  
  
"I think," Professor Snape said, looking at all of them scornfully, "that we will see what you can do without further instruction. You will find everything you need in the store cupboard, and your instructions are on the board. If brewed correctly, this potion will be opaque and murky brown in color with a moderate amount of pale-green steam. You have one hour and twenty minutes to complete today's work. Begin."  
  
Determined that this was one potion he would learn to make perfectly, Harry began reading the instructions on the board carefully, copying them down on a piece of parchment, while Hermione went to collect their ingredients from the student store cupboard. If he could learn to make this potion correctly, Remus would no longer have to depend upon Snape to provide him with it the week before the full moon, and Harry didn't like to think of Remus having to depend upon Snape for anything.  
  
Harry and Hermione did not talk while they worked as they usually did, except to check on one another's progress as the hour went on. It seemed that Hermione was just as determined as Harry to get the potion exactly right, but as she was always determined to get everything exactly right, he wasn't sure if this was actually anything new. Never before had Harry chopped his ingredients so carefully, watched the clock so diligently, and checked the flames on his cauldron as constantly as he did today. Even Professor Snape, who hovered over Harry even more than he did the rest of his students, found nothing to criticize.  
  
At the end of the period, Harry's efforts were rewarded by an opaque, murky-brown potion giving off moderate amounts of steam. His was identical to Hermione's, and that was an accomplishment, seeing as how Harry had never attempted a more difficult potion than this one on his own. Feeling confident that he had done well, he poured a small amount of potion into a glass vial, and took it up to Professor Snape's desk, muttering to Hermione as he went not to clean up his cauldron until he made sure Snape had received the sample for marking.  
  
As he placed his and Hermione's vials on the center of the teacher's table, Snape muttered without looking at him, "Potter, I want to see you after the others leave the room." Harry nodded, wondering what this was about. He went back to Hermione and they cleaned up their cauldrons quickly, feeling that Potions, at least, had gotten off to a good start. She looked concerned when Harry told her that he had been asked to stay, but she left the room with the others after Snape had assigned a two-foot essay on the significance of the ingredients of Wolfsbane, promising to wait for Harry down the hall.  
  
Harry had gathered all of his things so that he would be able to leave the room quickly, and as soon as the last sixth-year had left the classroom, he approached Snape's desk. "Professor, you wanted to see-"  
  
Snape did not give him time to finish, but stood up quickly, raised his wand, and before Harry had time to react, cried, " _Legilimens_!"  
  
Harry was completely unprepared, and as he felt the violent push that was Snape's intrusion on his mind, memories began to play in his head...memories he feared...memories he treasured...  
  
Only three or four seconds passed before Harry was able to throw up his defenses and begin pushing the intruder out of his mind. In his surprise and anger, Harry pushed back harder than he had ever done before. He panted from the exertion, sweat pouring from his brow. With one final, very intense push, Harry's mind cleared. He had succeeded.  
  
Professor Snape stumbled backwards into the blackboard from the force of Harry's defense, and Harry himself leaned on the front table as they glared at each other. "Whose side are you on, anyway?" Harry snapped, feeling the beginnings of a headache pounding in his temples.  
  
"Watch your tone, Potter," Snape warned him coldly. "As a member of the Order, it is my responsibility to see that you are keeping up your end of the bargain, learning Occlumency the way you are supposed to."  
  
"No, sir," Harry replied, barely keeping his temper in check. "It was your responsibility last year, wasn't it? Since you didn't see fit to actually teach me anything, I reckon it's none of your concern anymore."  
  
Snape's eyes flashed dangerously, but Harry was beyond caring. "I won't deny that your skills have improved, Potter," he said coldly, "but your arrogance is going to do nothing but put you into more unnecessary danger, as well as your friends." Although he did not specifically mention the Department of Mysteries, the implication was clear, and Harry's temper finally boiled over.  
  
"Well, you didn't help much there, did you? I tried to tell you, to warn you! But you just left! Better to save your own sorry skin than to actually try and help us, wasn't it?" Harry shouted, his head pounding furiously.  
  
"Do not speak of things you do not understand, Potter," Snape replied just as furiously. "You should count yourself lucky that I was able to alert the Order in time to save your pitiful life."  
  
"It wasn't my life that needed saving!" Harry screamed, totally out of control now that he had finally found an outlet for his fury. "You knew it was a trick! You could have stopped us going there! But you didn't care about Sirius, all because of some stupid trick he played on you back when you were in school! I think you did it on purpose, I think you wanted me to go to the Department of Mysteries...it was what your _master_ wanted, wasn't it?"  
  
Snape raised his wand, his face white with rage, and hissed, "Get out, Potter. Get out, _now_."  
  
Without another word, Harry spun and ran, the pain in his head so blinding that he sped right past his supplies on the table and out of the room, slamming the door shut behind him.  
  
As Harry ran down the dungeon corridor, he was too furious, too out of control, to notice Draco Malfoy slip out from around the corner and head the opposite direction, deeper into the dungeons, his pale face set in a decided smirk.  
  


* * *

  
"Harry!" Hermione exclaimed as her friend rounded the corner, his face white and sweaty, his mouth set in a furious line. "What happened?"  
  
Upon hearing her voice, Harry finally stopped running, but he did not look at her. Instead, still looking slightly crazed, he backed into the stone wall and slid down it, hiding his face in his hands. He was shaking badly, and Hermione was terrified that he'd had another attack.  
  
"Harry?" she asked softly, approaching him and kneeling next to him, putting her hand on his shoulder. "Harry, do you need someone? Should I go get Professor Dumbledore? Madam Pomfrey?"  
  
Harry shrugged her hand away and did not look up as he replied, "Just go away, Hermione. Leave me alone."  
  
Hermione didn't know what to do. Harry sounded extremely angry, but he seemed completely conscious and aware of his surroundings, very much unlike he had following the attack on his birthday. What had happened between Harry and Professor Snape to put Harry in such a state? He had seemed so much better lately, so much happier...what could have changed that so completely?  
  
"Come on, Harry," Hermione said gently. "We have a study period next in the library, but no one will notice if we aren't there. Let's go back to the common room."  
  
"Hermione, didn't you hear me?" Harry asked furiously. "I want to be left alone. Just go on. I'll see you later." He tried to calm his voice down as he looked up into her concerned face, but the last thing he wanted was a long, drawn-out conversation with her. "Go on. I'll see you at lunch," he repeated, trying to make his voice sound more even.  
  
"Harry, I don't think..."  
  
"Hermione, go. Just go away, all right?" His voice was harsh again, and Hermione could feel the anger radiating from his body. She backed away, and finally began to walk up the corridor towards the stairs, deciding that she would find someone else to come down and talk to Harry. She knew Harry well enough to know that if she did not leave, he would only become more furious. However, she could not resist one last glance at him before she went up the stairs, and she was alarmed, although not altogether surprised, to see his entire body still shaking with fury.  
  


* * *

  
Draco entered the special chamber in the dungeons only after making sure that no one else had seen him. He had been told that this chamber had been built during the first war, to allow his Lord to communicate with his servants at Hogwarts undetected. By some powerfully invoked magic, the room was impervious to the wards surrounding the castle. Although no one could enter or leave Hogwarts through it, open and secret communication was possible.  
  
When he heard the stone wall slide shut behind him, and he was again in complete darkness, Draco knelt on the floor, his eyes down. "I am here, my Lord," he said softly.  
  
The voice of the Dark Lord filled the small space, and Draco could hear him as clearly as he would have if they had been standing side-by-side. "Ah, yes, my young Death Eater," he hissed. "Do you have information for me?"  
  
"Yes, my Lord," Draco answered meekly, never raising his eyes. He was not sure if Lord Voldemort could see him or not, and he took no chances of incurring his wrath.  
  
"Very well," hissed the voice once again. "Speak quickly. I have other matters requiring my attention."  
  
"Professor Snape kept Potter after class this morning," Draco began, speaking quickly but with more humility than anyone else who knew him would have believed possible. "I listened from around the corner. Snape tried to perform Legilimency on Potter, but Potter was able to close him out."  
  
"Of course he was," the voice almost purred. "Continue."  
  
"Professor Snape accused Potter of being arrogant, and Potter asked him which side he was on. Potter thinks Snape purposefully ignored him when he tried to communicate what had happened at the Department of Mysteries."  
  
"Potter is not as dull as many believe him to be. Snape was indeed part of my plan, as you now know, young Malfoy."  
  
"Yes, my Lord." Draco was not as certain of Snape's loyalty, but he knew his master had ways of finding the truth. It would be dangerous to speak of it without proof.  
  
"What about the girl, the little redhead?" Voldemort hissed, a hint of cold amusement in his voice.  
  
"They are always together, my Lord," Draco answered, "besides when they are in classes, or she is on prefect patrol."  
  
"Yes, Potter is starting to care for her. I have seen it in his mind. She, her brother, and the Mudblood may well be useful tools. Keep watching, but make no move."  
  
"I will, my Lord," Draco answered, but there was the slightest hint of petulance in his voice now.  
  
"You will have your chance, young Malfoy. Now, go before anyone notices your absence. I will await your next report."  
  
Draco could sense that Lord Voldemort had left him, and he stood, smoothing his robes carefully before exiting silently from the chamber.  
  


* * *

  
Harry sat in the corridor for a full five minutes, trying to regain enough control to get up and leave the dungeons. He kept his head down, hidden from the second-year students that were now trickling past to go to their own Potions lesson. The students were Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs, and none of them recognized Harry, although several of them wondered why this older student was sitting alone in the hallway, his head buried in his knees. After he was certain all of the students had passed, Harry slowly rose, looked around, and walked up the stairs into the deserted Entrance Hall. He did not know where Hermione had gone, but knowing her as he did he supposed she had gone to find an adult. _Typical_ , he thought bitterly. _I can't even be angry without someone raising the alarm_.  
  
Harry did not want to talk to anyone, least of all Professor Dumbledore, and he guessed correctly that Hermione had gone straight up to the Headmaster's office to find him. He crossed the Entrance Hall furiously, wrenching open the large front door, and then stopped for a second in the courtyard, wondering where he should go. Finally deciding to take a walk around the lake in the cool, mid-morning air, he headed down and started walking, going in the opposite direction than Hagrid's cabin lay.  
  
As he walked his fury with Snape abated somewhat, and it was replaced by complete disgust with himself. He should have kept his temper with the Potions master. His outburst was going to do nothing more than increase the man's irritation with him.  
  
 _But so what if it does_? he thought, kicking a small rock out of his way. _It's not like we got along to begin with, and the old bat had it coming to him. I should not have gone to the Department of Mysteries, but he was the one person who could have stopped me. If he had, Sirius would still be alive; my friends wouldn't have gotten hurt_...  
  
His fury returned and he broke into a run, stopping only when a sharp pain down his left side doubled him over. He sat down heavily against a tree, staring out at the water. Fury, despair, and guilt fought for domination in his mind, and all the positive emotion from yesterday had evaporated completely.


	18. Tempers Fly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Harry disappears from Hogwarts, Hermione, Ron and Ginny have different ideas on where he might be and whether or not he had the right to run off like that. Who will be the first to find him, and what will he say?

Hermione was not sure what she should do. She couldn't find Professor Dumbledore, and Professor McGonagall was in class. Since Harry had not, as far as Hermione could tell, suffered another attack from Voldemort, she thought it unlikely that interrupting McGonagall's class was a very wise idea, and she did not actually think that Harry needed Madam Pomfrey. Hermione realized that leaving Harry in the dungeon corridor had probably not been the best idea, but since she already had, she decided that she would go and find Ron in the library and they would go down to find him together.  
  
She entered the library, which was full of sixth- and seventh-years already revising for their N.E.W.T. classes. She sighed. She really should start work on the Wolfsbane essay, but she knew she wouldn't be able to concentrate until she knew Harry was all right. She scanned the students at the study tables, and it didn't take her long to find the fiery red hair of her boyfriend, who was actually doing more staring off into space than revising. She walked quietly up to him, keeping her eyes open for Madam Pince, the librarian. "Ron," she whispered, startling him out of his reverie.  
  
"Oi, Hermione, why'd you have to scare a guy like that?" Ron asked, moving his bookbag aside so she would have room to work in the seat next to him. "How was Snape?"  
  
"Fine," Hermione whispered. "But Ron, I need you to come down to the dungeons with me."  
  
"Hermione! We're supposed to be studying!" Ron whispered back with a wicked grin, thinking that she wanted to find a private cupboard for some alone time with him.  
  
"Honestly, Ronald, just because all you can think about is-" Hermione began hotly, but at that moment, Madam Pince shot a loud "Shh!" in their direction and brandished her feather duster at them.  
  
"Anyway, Ron, we need to go back down there to talk to Harry. He's really upset about something."  
  
Ron looked alarmed but did not reply, as it appeared that Madam Pince was just barely restraining herself from coming at them with a heavy book. He silently gathered his books and followed her from the library.  
  
"What's going on?" he asked as soon as the library door shut firmly behind them. Hermione was walking very quickly towards the dungeons. "Is Harry okay?"  
  
"I don't know," Hermione snapped. "I tried to ask him, but he's really angry about something. Snape kept him after class, and -"  
  
"Snape kept him after class on the first day? What'd he do?"  
  
"Nothing, Ron, and his potion came out perfectly, so I couldn't guess what Professor Snape wanted from him. I told him I'd wait for him in the corridor. He wasn't in there long, but when he came out, he looked as angry as I've ever seen him look, and I swear he nearly killed me when I suggested that we go find someone to help."  
  
"You don't think it was... _You-Know-Who_...do you?" Ron asked worriedly as they continued to walk as quickly as possible.  
  
"At first I was worried about that, but he didn't seem anything like the way he seemed after Voldemort attacked him. It frightened me, though, Ron...I don't think I've seen Harry look that way since...well, for a long time."  
  
They reached the dungeon corridor and found no sign of Harry or anyone else, as the eleven o'clock class period had begun a few minutes before. They turned to leave, shooting worried glances at one another, when a drawling, familiar voice sounded behind them.  
  
"If it isn't Weasel and the Mudblood," Draco taunted from behind them. Ron's ears immediately turned red as he spun around to face Malfoy.  
  
"Say that again, Malfoy, go on," Ron threatened, pulling his wand from his pocket, and ignoring Hermione, who had grabbed his other arm to hold him back.  
  
"Of course, I wouldn't be caught dead with a Muggle-born," Draco continued, looking quite unafraid, although he had also taken his wand out and was twirling it lazily in his fingers. "But I suppose your family has had to lower their standards, haven't they, Weasel? There's not a pureblood in England who would marry a Weasley."  
  
"Ron, ignore him. He's not worth it!" Hermione said furiously, tugging on Ron's arm again. "We need to go find Harry!"  
  
"Oh, lost Potty, have you?" Draco drawled. "Maybe he's gone off with your sister, Weasel...he's been dying to -"  
  
Ron wrenched free from Hermione's grasp, launching himself at Malfoy, who was caught off guard that Ron hadn't thought to try and hex him. Ron managed to land one punch on Malfoy's pointed chin when a door opened a short way down the corridor and Professor Snape quickly intervened.  
  
"Well, well," he said silkily, grabbing the back of Ron's robes and pulling him back from Malfoy. "It seems that you haven't even been able to make it the first week of term without getting yourself into trouble, Mr. Weasley. Let's see...I think twenty points from Gryffindor would make a nice start to the year, wouldn't it? And I'll have an additional ten from your house for finding two _prefects_ so far away from where they should be."  
  
Hermione gripped Ron's shoulder in warning, and he held his temper in check although he glared daggers at Professor Snape.  
  
"We were looking for Harry, Professor," Hermione said before anyone else could speak. "Have you seen him?"  
  
"Now, why would I have seen him, Miss Granger? Before you two decided to attack Mr. Malfoy right outside my classroom door, I was teaching a class." Malfoy smirked as Professor Snape glared at Ron and Hermione. "Now, I believe all three of you have somewhere else you need to be. Go, before I decide to take more points."  
  
Ron looked like he was about to retort, but Hermione grabbed his arm fiercely and pulled him back up the stone staircase. When they were safely out of earshot, Ron tore his arm out of her grasp and snarled, "When I think of those two slimy little -" he called them a name that caused Hermione to blush, "I just want to hex them both into a thousand pieces and get it done with."  
  
"Well, I'm glad to see your common sense intervened, Ronald," Hermione said sarcastically. "Your fist was a much better choice of weapon."  
  
Ron gaped at her. "Like you're one to talk...I seem to remember a certain someone hitting Malfoy around the face third year!"  
  
Hermione blushed but smiled, and Ron could see that she wasn't really angry with him. "Come on, Ron, maybe Harry's gone up to the common room. Let's go find out what happened."  
  
Harry was not in the common room, nor was he in the boys' dormitory, the owlery, the library, or even the Room of Requirement. By the time Hermione and Ron had finished searching all of those places, they were quite out of breath and getting increasingly worried. Hermione remained certain that Harry had not been attacked, but they had been told not to leave him on his own in case Voldemort made another attempt on his mind.  
  
"Maybe we should get McGonagall or Dumbledore or someone," Hermione finally suggested, as students began pouring out of their classrooms and towards the Great Hall for lunch.  
  
"Hermione, if you're sure Harry wasn't attacked, getting a teacher is the last thing we should do," Ron told her. "You know Harry - he won't speak to us for days if we do that, so we need to make sure it's worth it."  
  
"But we can't find him _anywhere_!" Hermione exclaimed. "What if he's in some kind of trouble?"  
  
"Let's go in and have some lunch. If Harry doesn't show up by the end of the hour, then we'll go get someone to help us, okay?" Ron's suggestion was sensible, so Hermione nodded worriedly and followed Ron into the Great Hall.  
  
They met up with Ginny, who was grumbling to a complacent-looking Luna Lovegood about her Transfiguration homework. One look at Hermione's face and she left Luna to follow the two over to the Gryffindor table. As they all helped themselves to fried chicken, Ron and Hermione filled her in on what had happened. To Ron's great consternation, Ginny blushed when he got to the bit about Draco Malfoy making suggestions concerning her and Harry.  
  
"You...weren't..." Ron stammered, and Hermione and Ginny both laughed at him.  
  
"Of course not, Ron! Harry and Ginny are only friends, and besides, she was in class while we were looking for him," Hermione giggled, momentarily forgetting her worry. Ron looked immensely relieved.  
  
Harry did not show up during lunch, and after they had all eaten hurriedly, Hermione said, "We've got thirty minutes before classes start. I think we should go back up to the common room and look there again, and if he's not there, I'm going to get someone. Harry can be angry if he wants, but you heard what your mum said about not letting him be alone too much." Ron reluctantly agreed.  
  
Ginny told the two that she needed to stop off at the library before heading to Care of Magical Creatures, and to let her know if they found him. After they had gone, though, she left the Great Hall alone and headed for the front doors. She and Harry had talked quite a bit over the summer while Ron and Hermione had spent time together, and he had told her that he liked to get outside and walk when he was feeling troubled. She set off to the lake, guessing that Harry would not have gone to Hagrid's, and knowing that he could not have gone into the forest. She felt slightly guilty about not telling Ron and Hermione where she thought he was, but she wanted to make sure she was correct first. The last thing any of them needed was Hermione to become worried that Harry had actually left the grounds.  
  


* * *

  
It only took her five minutes to reach Harry's spot by the lake, as he had not veered much from the normal path. He was sitting alone, his back up against the trunk of a tree, staring vacantly out into the water.  
  
"Harry?" Ginny said, approaching him hesitantly. After what Hermione had said about his mood, she did not want to get too close. She had seen Harry's temper before, and while she knew he wouldn't hurt her, she thought it best not to crowd him.  
  
"What are you doing out here, Ginny?" he asked dispassionately, the anger in his voice gone.  
  
"What do you think I'm doing? Looking for you!" Ginny answered with a hint of annoyance in her voice. "You've got everyone in a right state, Harry. What in the world made you come out here without telling anyone where you were going?"  
  
"I think I've got a right to take a walk if I want to, Ginny," Harry said, his temper flaring once again.  
  
"Oh, that's what you think, is it?" Ginny answered, matching Harry's temper easily. "You think you've got a right to have Ron and Hermione looking all over the damn castle for you, worried sick that something's wrong? You think you've got a right to just stalk out when no one's looking, not bothering to tell anyone? Well, you listen to me, Harry Potter -"  
  
"Save it, Ginny," Harry snapped. "There's nothing wrong with me. I just wanted some time to myself for once. I don't know why that seems to be so much to ask!"  
  
"I'll tell you why, then!" Ginny shouted, losing her temper completely. "Because last time you were left on your own you almost died! You were too stupid to ask for help when you needed it! Not to mention You-Know-Who trying to get into your head at every turn! So you're just going to have to get over it because we are going to be spending time with you and worrying about you!"  
  
"You think I asked for that?" Harry laughed bitterly. "And just for the record, it wasn't Voldemort trying to get into my head this time, it was Snape."  
  
In her tirade, Ginny missed Harry's comment about Snape completely. "Just because you didn't ask for it doesn't mean it's not happening! And we're not going to let you go through it alone! I can't believe how selfish you're being, by the way. Do you think you're the only one affected by all this? My mum barely slept all summer, worrying about you, and Hermione missed the rest of her holiday with her parents, and -"  
  
"All right, Ginny, I get the point," Harry interrupted, his anger draining away at last. "I'm sorry, okay?" His guilt for what he was putting them all through peeked through his temper, and even though he still thought it was unfair that she was giving him a telling-off just for wanting to be on his own, he could see her point.  
  
Ginny tried to calm herself, and when she spoke, it was in a more civil tone. "It's a start, I guess. You just can't do this, Harry. I know it's unfair, but you just can't...wait a minute," Ginny interrupted herself, Harry's comment finally piercing through her emotions and into her mind, "did you say _Snape_ tried to break into your mind?"  
  
"Yeah," Harry answered. "That's why he kept me after class. He didn't even give me a chance to react, he just dove right in. I got him out, but then we had quite a row, and he just made me so mad, I guess I wasn't thinking..."  
  
"Too right you weren't," Ginny muttered, but she was having a hard time staying angry, much as she thought Harry deserved it for his attitude. "Why do you think he attacked you?"  
  
"I'm not sure," Harry said bitterly. "He said it was his job as a member of the Order to make sure I was practicing my Occlumency, but sometimes I still wonder...his lessons last year did nothing but make things worse."  
  
"Do you think he's on our side, Harry?" Ginny asked.  
  
"Dumbledore thinks so, and Moony is certain of it," Harry answered. "But I still don't know why they're so sure."  
  
Before they had any chance to discuss it further, they saw students walking towards Hagrid's cabin for Care of Magical Creatures, and they knew that they had to go. Ginny walked Harry right up to the doors of the castle as though she wanted to make sure he actually went back into the castle. She told him to hurry to class so Ron and Hermione would stop worrying, and then broke into a run down to Hagrid's cabin, shouting a quick goodbye at him over her shoulder.  
  


* * *

  
Harry had to hurry. As he was going into the castle, he suddenly remembered that he had left his book bag in Snape's dungeon. He ran down the stone steps, and slipped into the room silently, very relieved that Snape was still in his office. He did not say a word in reply to the questioning stares from the fourth-year Slytherin and Gryffindor students in the room, but shouldered his bag and hurried up to the second-floor Charms classroom.  
  
He reached Professor Flitwick's classroom only a minute before the bell rang. He was not surprised to see Ron and Hermione waiting anxiously outside of the classroom, but was rather surprised to see Tonks standing with them, peering up and down the halls watchfully.  
  
"Harry!" Hermione cried. "Where on earth have you been? I was so worried! We looked everywhere! We thought -"  
  
"I'm sorry, Hermione," Harry replied. "I wasn't thinking straight. Sorry, mate," he added, looking at Ron. His irritation flared again even as he apologized, but he reminded himself that they were only worried about him.  
  
"You all right, kid?" Tonks asked, looking at him closely.  
  
"Yeah, I'm all right. Thanks, Tonks," Harry told her, embarrassed at the commotion he had caused.  
  
"I need to get to my class, then, but I want to talk to you after dinner. We'll go for a walk."  
  
Harry had a feeling he was going to find out what it was like to get a telling-off from Tonks before he had even gone to her class, but, after what Ginny had said to him, he felt he probably deserved it. He nodded at Tonks, and she left quickly.  
  
Flitwick gave them a lecture at the beginning of class much like the one they had received at the beginning of their O.W.L. year, but, as always, his lecture was not stern, but kind, his squeaky voice congratulating all of them on passing their O.W.L.s successfully. He assigned them a relatively simple charm for the day, a review from the previous year, and Harry, Ron, and Hermione used the usual noisy cover of the class to discuss what had happened.  
  
"So, where'd you go, Harry?" Ron asked. "We looked all over the castle for you, and no one had seen you."  
  
"I went down to walk by the lake," Harry answered.  
  
"Harry, you aren't supposed -" Hermione began, but Harry interrupted her.  
  
"I know, Hermione, and I'm sorry, okay? I already got a right telling-off from Ginny, isn't that enough? I won't do it again." He sounded slightly bitter.  
  
"From Ginny?" Ron asked bewilderedly. "When did you see Ginny?"  
  
"She came and found me by the lake. Why? Didn't she tell you she was going to look out there?" Harry could tell by the confused expressions on his friends' faces that she hadn't, and he wondered why.  
  
"She said she was going to the library," Ron said indignantly. "If she knew where to find you, why didn't she tell us?"  
  
"Isn't it obvious?" Hermione asked with an infuriatingly superior look on her face.  
  
"No," Ron and Harry answered together, and Hermione smiled at their thickness. Her smile turned quickly into a frown, however, as she returned to the matter at hand.  
  
"Harry, what made you so angry?" she asked, needing to know the answer, but afraid he was going to get angry again.  
  
"Snape," Harry said simply.  
  
"Well, no offense mate, but I think we had that one figured out already. What happened?" Ron asked.  
  
Harry told them all about Snape's attack on his mind and the ensuing row. When he got to the part where he had blatantly accused Snape of being a Death Eater, Hermione gasped, "Harry, you didn't!"  
  
"He's got a point, Hermione. Why else would he have done what he did if he's not reporting to You-Know-Who?" Ron said.  
  
"I'm sure he probably wanted to see how Harry's Occlumency was going," Hermione countered. "Remember, Dumbledore trusts him, and he's a member of the Order. I can't believe he surprised you like that, though, Harry," she said, slightly more sympathetically.  
  
"Oh, I can," Harry replied bitterly. "I'm not sure what side he's on, but whatever side it is, there's no doubting that he hates me."  
  
"Harry, he doesn't -"  
  
"Come off it, Hermione," Ron interrupted. "Everyone knows Snape's had it in for Harry since day one."  
  
Hermione opened her mouth as though she were about to reply, but then closed it and nodded reluctantly. Snape's and Harry's mutual animosity had been well-known since first year.  
  
Now that he had told his friends what had happened, Harry was more than ready for a change of subject, so he seized upon the one topic that was sure to take the conversation off him. "So, Ron," he began. "Now that Angelina and Alicia have graduated, who do you reckon will be on the house team this year?"  
  
As usual, the diversion of Quidditch worked, and although Hermione looked as though she disapproved of the change of subject, she magnanimously allowed Ron and Harry to carry on with discussions of the Gryffindor team for the rest of the period.  
  


* * *

  
N.E.W.T. Herbology did not prove to be much different than it had been in years past, and as they left Greenhouse Five to wash the soil off of their hands before dinner, Harry's thoughts turned to his upcoming meeting with Tonks. He didn't know why, but he felt slightly nervous. He had never really spent much time alone with her unless you counted the few minutes they had spent last summer packing Harry's things on Privet Drive, and he didn't know what to expect from the conversation. She was usually so cheerful that it was hard to imagine her telling anybody off, but he had also seen her fight fiercely at the Department of Mysteries and knew that, as an Auror, there had to be a certain amount of toughness in her personality.  
  
He did not have long to wait. After he had eaten a large dinner, he looked up at the teacher's table. He noticed for the first time how much younger she seemed than the other teachers, most of whom had been at Hogwarts for a decade or more, and she gave him a small nod, the expression on her face much more serious than usual. He bid goodbye to his classmates and headed towards the entrance hall. He had only waited a few moments before Tonks joined him.  
  
"Let's just go out for a walk around the grounds," she asked him, leading the way out the front doors. "It's a nice night, and this way we will be able to talk without being overheard." Harry nodded.  
  
Once they had crossed the courtyard and gone onto the grounds, Harry noticed that Tonks' normal watchfulness increased into a state of heightened alert. She didn't seem nervous, just careful, and Harry supposed that being constantly on guard was probably an occupational hazard to being an Auror.  
  
"Harry, I need you to listen to me for a bit, kid," Tonks started the conversation once she was sure they could not be overheard. She had led him to the same path he had taken earlier in the day, the one around the lake. "I know you hate this, and I hate that you have to go through it, but you just can't go off on your own like you did today. If you had stayed in the castle, that would have been one thing, but coming out on the grounds on your own wasn't a good idea."  
  
"I know, Tonks. I'm sorry I made everyone worry," Harry answered, finding it hard to be irritated with the young professor in the crisp fall air, the giant squid keeping pace with them lazily along the shallow edges of the lake.  
  
"That's not what I mean, Harry," Tonks answered him gently. "Anyone would have been angry after what happened this morning. We all understand that, and you already apologized to your friends. It's forgiven and forgotten."  
  
"How do you know about this morning?" Harry asked, confused.  
  
"I had Ginny for Defense Against the Dark Arts this afternoon. I hope you don't mind that she told me - I asked her straight out, and I _am_ a professor now, you know," Tonks said, sticking her nose in the air, pretending to be arrogant.  
  
Harry felt slightly put out as he reflected that everyone seemed to always know his business, but he pushed the feeling aside. Ginny had done nothing wrong in answering Tonks's questions; in fact, she probably didn't feel as though she had much of a choice, and he knew the Order would find out pretty much everything he did this year anyway.  
  
"Listen, Harry," Tonks began again, her voice serious. "I need you to take me seriously when I tell you that I don't want you to be on your own outside anymore. In fact, I would be more comfortable if you weren't on your own any more than is needed, but I know that everyone needs some time to himself every now and again."  
  
"Tonks, is there something I need to know?" Harry asked her directly. "I don't want to be kept in the dark."  
  
"Harry, as you know, Hogwarts is one of the safest places on the planet as long as Albus Dumbledore is the headmaster. Having said that, however, this is a war, and for some reason, you seem to be a key player in that." She stopped, unsure for a moment how to continue because she wasn't sure exactly why Voldemort seemed so focused on Harry's defeat.  
  
Harry nodded glumly, and Tonks continued after a moment. "Professor Dumbledore has not yet found a way to counter the kind of attack that happened at your party, the dual attack, and our biggest worry concerning you is that it will happen again, and you must not be alone when it does. That kind of powerful attack can have terrible consequences, for you and for the Order."  
  
"If no one knows how to break it, though, what can they do?" Harry asked. "Besides teaching me Occlumency, of course, and I'm already going to be working with Professor Dumbledore on that three times a week."  
  
"Harry, even if it cannot break the attack, having someone near you that cares for you will go a long way in helping you fight, and it is also important to have someone to take care of you after it ends. An attack of that nature leaves your physical and magical reserves very low, and that means you are extremely vulnerable to attack from the outside while you recover."  
  
"Attack from the outside?" Harry repeated. No one had mentioned that before, although it did make some sense.  
  
"That was going to be my next point, Harry. Hogwarts has every ward around it imaginable, but one of Voldemort's greatest strengths lies in his cunning. We do not believe that he can come here personally just yet, but that is not to say that there are not those among his followers who could without any of us being the wiser. Many Death Eaters work as spies, and it is often impossible to tell who they are. Harry, enjoy your time with your friends, but know who you can trust and be careful around people, especially if they seem to take an unusual interest in you."  
  
Harry nodded again, feeling a little overwhelmed but also slightly stupid. He had not even stopped to consider the possibility that there could be Death Eaters at Hogwarts, for he could not truly believe that Snape was one, as much as he hated the man. Yet, only a little over a year before, a professor that Harry and Dumbledore had both trusted had turned out to be a Death Eater in disguise and had tried to kill Harry before Dumbledore had intervened.  
  
"Don't beat yourself up, kid," Tonks said gently. "Just don't do a repeat of this morning, okay?"  
  
"All right."  
  
"Now," Tonks said, her tone brightening back to normal. "I only just arrived yesterday, and I haven't been here since I left school. What say you show me around the grounds? You've got a bit before curfew, haven't you?"  
  
Harry laughed at her sudden return to exuberance, and took her down to the Quidditch pitch, past Hagrid's cabin and the entrance to the Forbidden Forest, and around the Herbology greenhouses as the night grew darker and she kept him entertained with stories from her own school days. Harry was surprised to find that she had gone to school with the two eldest Weasley brothers, Bill and Charlie, and he thought that Charlie sounded a lot like Ron.  
  
Tonks walked him all the way back up to Gryffindor tower, giving the Fat Lady a fond wave as Harry said the password, "carpe diem." When he had climbed through the portrait hole and arrived in the common room, he settled down at the usual table with Ron and Hermione and began work on the day's homework, which had been considerable in all classes. Ron and Hermione were busy having an argument over whether or not History of Magic had been a useless class ("'Those who don't know the past are doomed to repeat it,' Ronald."). They greeted Harry cheerfully, glad that he seemed to be in a better mood.


	19. A Child No More

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> School is on and in full swing at Hogwarts! Join Harry as he takes his first private Occlumency lesson with Professor Dumbledore (and learns a bit about himself in the process), his first DADA class of sixth year, and banters with his friends about his "new" love interests. As you might expect, however, all is not well - and Voldemort and Lucius Malfoy are not idle.

Harry arrived at the Headmaster's office ten minutes early for their first Occlumency lesson of the term. When he arrived, his bag already packed and heavy, he stared at the stone gargoyle, realizing he did not know the password yet.  
  
He jumped slightly when the calm voice of Professor Dumbledore sounded directly behind him. "Good morning, Harry. Thank you for arriving so promptly." He turned to the stone gargoyle. "Sugar quill," he said clearly, his eyes twinkling. The gargoyle jumped aside and the familiar rotating staircase came into view. Harry followed the Headmaster onto the staircase, and they ascended to the circular office in silence.  
  
Harry was not at all surprised that there was no evidence of his tantrum at the end of last term; in fact, he clearly remembered smashing several of the silver instruments which stood in perfect condition on the low tables.  
  
Dumbledore noticed Harry looking around and told him gently, "The damage to my possessions was easily repaired, Harry. I wish I could say the same for the damage that has been done to you."  
  
Harry looked sharply at Dumbledore, who continued, "Ah, yes, Harry. I've wanted to speak of this to you for some time, but the moment has not been right. Perhaps now, if you would care to sit?" He gestured at the chairs in front of his desk, and Harry sat, placing his bag on the ground beside him.  
  
"Harry," Dumbledore began, "the passage from child to adult is a difficult process, and I have observed thousands of students on this journey in my time as a teacher and as Headmaster of this school.  
  
"From the beginning, Harry, you have been different than any other young man I have ever known. Your very first day as a student, you chose your friends with more wisdom than I could have hoped for. At eleven years of age, you turned down an offer of friendship that implied immediate power and status in favor of loyalty to a boy you had only just come to know."  
  
Harry was astounded. The choice between Draco Malfoy's outstretched hand and Ron's friendship had not been difficult, but how had Dumbledore known about it?  
  
"As I told you before, Harry, I have watched you more closely than you could have guessed," Dumbledore said quietly. "And you have never given me reason to be anything but proud of the man you were becoming, for Harry, even at the times when you have made questionable decisions they have always been for the right reasons. With only one exception, that is," he added, the twinkle in his eyes returning for a moment. "The incident with the flying Ford Anglia was regrettable." His eyes held no condemnation as he said this. Actually, the old wizard appeared to be holding back a laugh.  
  
Harry remained mute throughout this rather surprising monologue, not sure what to make of it. How could Dumbledore seem so serious one moment, and almost jovial the next? Even as Harry watched, the amusement died, replaced once again by gravity, age, and a hint of sadness.  
  
"Youth is meant to be enjoyed, to be savored. I regret that you have had few opportunities in your life to do either, and what chance you did have was taken from you too abruptly that night at the Department of Mysteries, the night you witnessed your own godfather's death. Your childhood ended that night, Harry. I have seen it in your eyes all summer, and I mourn that loss.  
  
"I watched you come back from the very brink of your own death, and I am proud of the man you have become, proud of the fight you are waging. You have strength beyond anything I have ever seen, or could have ever expected, Harry. That is how I know that when your time comes, when it is time to fulfill that destiny which you have been handed, you will succeed."  
  
His speech complete, Dumbledore sat back in his chair and steepled his long fingers under his chin. He watched Harry's face closely, searching for a reaction to all that he had said.  
  
Harry's mind was working furiously. Was this Dumbledore's idea of a pep talk? He did not know how Dumbledore could claim that he, Harry, had shown any kind of strength during the holidays; Harry had never felt weaker in his life. "Professor," he said hesitantly, "I lost my strength when Voldemort attacked my mind. I couldn't fight him; until you began teaching me Occlumency, I didn't even try."  
  
"Quite the contrary, Harry," Dumbledore answered. "It is true that you were unable to stop the attacks, but that does not mean that you did not fight them, even if you were not aware of doing so. Why do you believe you became so ill?"  
  
"Because Voldemort attacked me, sir," Harry answered, feeling the beginnings of irritation. "He never let up."  
  
"No, Harry," Dumbledore corrected him, leaning forward intently. "Even Voldemort does not have the power to physically harm you by intruding upon your mind. It was the fight that drained your reserves, both magical and physical. You were not equipped to push him from your mind, but you did not make it easy for him."  
  
"Professor, I don't think -" Harry began, but Dumbledore interrupted him. "Why do you believe Voldemort went through so much trouble to break into your mind, Harry? He knew he could not kill you in that way, and it could not have been easy for him to get past the wards surrounding Privet Drive and Grimmauld Place."  
  
Harry did not know what to say. He had never stopped to consider why Voldemort did what he did. When he thought about it, however, there were only two instances he could remember in which Voldemort had entered his mind voluntarily. The first time Voldemort had attacked his mind had been when he planted the vision of Sirius being tortured in the Hall of Prophecy. The second had been when he had possessed Harry in a futile attempt to get Dumbledore to use a killing curse on him. Both of these times, Voldemort had clear purpose. But what had his purpose been over the summer?  
  
"He taunted me," Harry said, trying to reason through his thoughts. "He threatened the Weasleys and Moony. He tried to get me to give in to him. But what did he mean by 'give in?'"  
  
"Harry, it does not stand to reason that Voldemort would expect you to physically surrender yourself to him. He knows you would risk your own life to save your friends, as you always have, but he also knows that you must believe them to be in physical danger. He also knows that the Order would not let you go even if you were inclined to do so, and he would not be so foolish as to reveal his location to you. Can you think of anything else he might have wanted?"  
  
Harry nodded, and sudden realization hit him. "The prophecy. He must have known you would tell me the prophecy."  
  
Dumbledore looked grave as he inclined his head towards Harry. "Yes," he said simply.  
  
"But I couldn't keep it from him!" Harry exclaimed. "He knows now! And that was even after you had started to teach me Occlumency."  
  
"But Harry, in order to get that information from you, Voldemort had to use an unknown form of Legilimency which allowed the dual attack that happened on your birthday. Even before you and I began work on your defenses, you had kept him out of the deepest parts of your mind, where your memories were located. He was looking for it all along, Harry, and he realized that he would have to launch a much more powerful attack in order to find it. M ost wizards could not have kept Voldemort out of their minds at all, even had they been trying their hardest to block him. You were able, for a time, to keep from him that which he sought."  
  
"What does it matter how long it took him?" Harry muttered. "He got what he wanted."  
  
"What matters, Harry, is that every defeat you hand Voldemort gives him one less weapon to use against you."  
  
"I'm sure he'll think of new ones," Harry replied. "I might as well be walking around with a target on my back."  
  
"Harry, when your time comes, you will not be defenseless. I promise you that. You have the power to fulfill your destiny, and all you must do is learn to wield it." When Harry nodded, Dumbledore continued, "Now, Harry, are you ready to get to work?"  
  
Only after their Occlumency practice had ended and Harry had left Dumbledore's office did he realize that he had forgotten to ask about the additional training Professor McGonagall had mentioned.  
  


* * *

  
Harry was preoccupied with the things Dumbledore had told him all through his study period, lunch, and N.E.W.T. Transfiguration. Even though he tried to work on his Potions essay in the library, Ron tried to talk to him about Quidditch tryouts during lunch, and Professor McGonagall reprimanded him sternly for letting his mind wander while he was supposed to be studying the theory of transfiguring inanimate objects into animals, he could not get the conversation out of his mind.  
  
 _You have the power to fulfill your destiny, and all you must do is learn to wield it._  
  
What power did Dumbledore believe he had? Harry tried to understand. He wanted to believe that he had the ability to complete his task, but he did not know how he would ever defeat Voldemort. It just didn't seem possible.  
  
"Harry," Hermione asked as she, Ron, and Harry walked from Transfiguration to their first Defense Against the Dark Arts class with Tonks. "Is something bothering you? You haven't been able to pay attention to anything all day."  
  
"No, I'm fine," Harry answered semi-truthfully. "I've just got some stuff on my mind."  
  
"What kind of stuff?" Hermione asked.  
  
"Hermione, give it a rest," Ron told her, knowing that they would find out what was on Harry's mind sooner if they didn't badger him.  
  
"I am only _asking_ , Ron!" Hermione said irritably.  
  
"Look, I'm fine. I promise, all right? I only need some time to think," Harry said, trying to put a stop to the ensuing argument. For a few moments, they walked in silence.  
  
"I wonder what classes with Tonks will be like," Hermione said with difficulty, and Harry shot a grateful smile at her. He knew how hard it was for her to let things go, and he appreciated it.  
  
"Dunno," Ron answered. "I bet she's good, though. Might give Lupin a run for his money, eh? I mean, she is an Auror and all."  
  
"Yeah," Harry answered, "and she's a damn good dueler as well." He broke off suddenly, realizing that the only time he had seen her duel had been at the Department of Mysteries. Ron and Hermione looked slightly fearful, and then very relieved when Harry did not seem too disturbed by his reference to that night. A flicker of sadness had crossed his face, but he had recovered quickly as they reached the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom and quickly took seats near the front.  
  
Harry was quite happy to see that the N.E.W.T. class was almost entirely comprised of D.A. members. After the intentionally poor instruction they had received from Professor Umbridge, it was hardly surprising; students who had not been in the D.A. had been at an extreme disadvantage in taking their Defense Against the Dark Arts O.W.L.s. As Harry sat down next to Ron, he greeted Neville Longbottom, Seamus Finnegan, and Dean Thomas cheerfully and exchanged waves with some of the members from other houses. He frowned, however, when Malfoy, once again without Crabbe and Goyle, took a seat with two other Slytherins at the table right behind Harry, leaving Lavender, Parvati, and Padma looking distinctly disappointed as they took a seat near the back.  
  
As the bell sounded, Tonks strode to the front of the room confidently, not bothering to order her class into silence like many of the teachers did. She simply turned to face them, smiling pleasantly as their conversations died down and they waited to hear what she had to say.  
  
"Good afternoon, everyone, and welcome to N.E.W.T.-level Defense Against the Dark Arts. As you learned at the Start-of-Term Feast, my name is Professor Tonks, and it is my task this year to begin your preparation for your Defense Against the Dark Arts N.E.W.T. examinations at the end of your seventh year.  
  
"Having said that, however, I must warn you that my focus is not to simply make sure you pass your examination, although you should have no problem if you are attentive in class and complete the assignments I set for you. My main purpose is to prepare you to defend yourselves should the need arise.  
  
"To that end, this class will include very little bookwork. I understand that your previous professor focused entirely on theory." She paused as the class let out a unified groan at the memory of the hours of class time they had spent the previous year reading _Defensive Magical Theory_ in Umbridge's class.  
  
"While theory is an important element in the learning of magic, I'm afraid you will not have time to consult the library should you find yourselves fighting for your lives." At this comment, Ron and Harry could not help grinning at Hermione, who was famous for resorting to books whenever she had a question on any topic. Tonks continued, "Much of the fall term will be devoted to learning and practicing shield charms as well as some of the more common jinxes and hexes and on physical training. The spring term will consist of countering some of the more serious Dark spells, and we will end the year by combining all of what we have learned into a section on dueling."  
  
Lavender raised her hand. "Yes, Miss...Brown?" Tonks asked, consulting her roll sheet.  
  
"Professor, what exactly do you mean by physical training?" she asked nervously.  
  
"I'm glad you asked that question," Tonks said cheerfully. "I am afraid that you will find that in true dueling, it is not enough to stand in one place and cast hexes and charms back and forth. You must also learn to be quick on your feet, to take advantage of multiple positions, and to be able to dodge spells that are cast your way. Your spellwork is your best weapon, but physical defense can save your life as well."  
  
The class spent the rest of the hour practicing the _Protego_ shield charm, which causes a spell to bounce back upon the attacker. Tonks taught her class in much the same way as Harry had instructed the D.A., walking between the pairs, who had been told to take it in turns to throw minor jinxes and try to defend themselves using the shield. Harry, of course, had not only mastered the spell long before, but had used it against Bellatrix Lestrange in the Department of Mysteries. He took a turn each with Ron, Hermione, and Neville, but left them to their own devices after he had successfully used the charm against each of them. He watched the other D.A. members critically as they practiced, noticing that while all of them could successfully cast the charm, most of them were not quick enough for it to do any good.  
  
"Wotcher, Harry," whispered Tonks, coming up behind him.  
  
"Hi, Professor," Harry replied, smiling at her. "Great lesson!"  
  
"Thanks," Tonks replied, still whispering. "What do you think so far?"  
  
Harry told her the truth. "Most of them learned the spell in the D.A. last year," he said, "But I think you were right about the physical training. None of them would stand a chance against a Death Eater."  
  
Tonks nodded and then stepped back to the front of the room. She raised her voice, calling for an end to the spellwork, and the class fell silent. "I am impressed with the spellwork I see from most of you," she complimented them. "However, your speed is far too slow. It will do you no good to be able to work the spell if your opponent's spell is able to hit you before you complete it." Harry distinctly heard a derisive snort from the Slytherins seated behind him, but he did not turn.  
  
"All right, then, homework," she said decisively, smiling at the groans from her class. "Practice your shield charm, and as a beginning to the physical component of your training, I would like all of you to start taking a daily run of no less than twenty minutes. You may have your own choice whether to complete it before breakfast or in the evening before curfew, but it is a requirement, and I will take note of anyone who is absent without excuse. You will not be alone - I am requiring this of my seventh-year class as well."  
  
There were many grumbles as the class packed up their bags and headed to their dorms to stow their books before dinner, but the overall tone of the students' whispers was excitement. Harry, Ron, and Hermione all smiled at Tonks as they left the room, and she gave them a slight wink in return, but did not say anything else to indicate that she knew them better than the rest of the students. Draco Malfoy had spilled the contents of his book bag on the floor, and she did not want to risk revealing anything in front of any of the other students.  
  


* * *

  
"So, Harry," Ron said as they entered the Great Hall for dinner. "Quidditch tryouts on Saturday, okay mate?"  
  
"Sure," Harry answered, looking forward to getting into the air again. "Let's see...all we need is a Chaser, right?"  
  
"Two Chasers," Ron corrected him.  
  
"But we've already got Katie Bell and Ginny," Harry said in confusion.  
  
"No, we've already got Katie. Ginny played Seeker last year. If she wants to change positions, she'll have to try out like everyone else."  
  
"You were serious when you said that?" Harry asked incredulously.  
  
"Serious when he said what?" Seamus interrupted.  
  
"Ginny's going to have to try out for the Quidditch team again," Harry told Seamus and Dean, who looked a bit surprised at the news.  
  
"She's already on the team, though," Dean commented.  
  
"As Seeker," Ron said, starting to get irritated. "But now that Harry's back as Seeker, she's going to have to try out if she wants to be a Chaser...I can't just give it to her automatically because she's my _sister_!" He stalked away from him and took his seat next to Hermione at the Gryffindor house table.  
  
Harry watched Ron walk away, and then turned to Seamus and Dean, who had rather amused expressions on their faces. "Well," Harry said, "that settles it, then. Angelina Johnson and Oliver Wood are possessing him." The other two snorted, and Harry left them to join Ron and Hermione.  
  
After he had eaten his way through a large plateful of ham and vegetables, Harry was considering going back up to the common room to finish the Wolfsbane essay for Professor Snape's class when he felt a tap on his shoulder and turned to find several D.A. members, including Cho Chang, standing behind him.  
  
"Hello," he greeted them, knowing already what they wanted, and getting straight to the point. "Listen, now we've got Professor Tonks -"  
  
"Harry, she's good, but we will only be in there three times a week," Neville said, pointing out the same thing that he'd said on the train. "We need more practice than that."  
  
"Neville's right," Cho added. "If we're going to have to defend ourselves, we need to know how to do it properly."  
  
"Harry," Hermione said quietly, "You're a really good teacher, you know. If you keep helping us along with Professor Tonks, we'll all be that much more ready when it's time for us to fight."  
  
Harry did not miss the fact that she had said " _when_ it is time for us to fight," not " _if_ we have to fight," and he realized that she was probably right. It would not be long before the war began in earnest, and no family in the world would be safe.  
  
After considering for another moment, Harry nodded slowly. "It might be a couple of weeks before we get started," he said. "It won't be a secret this year, and I'm going to have to talk to Professor Dumbledore and Ton- ... er, Professor Tonks about it. Do you all still have the fake galleons Hermione gave you last year?"  
  
They all nodded. "All right, then," he said. "I'll use mine to let you know when our first meeting will be."  
  
The D.A. members began to head back to their own tables, and Cho flashed an awkward smile at Harry, who grinned back at her. After everything that had happened, he had quite forgotten his anger with her, but neither did he feel the nervous butterflies in his stomach that seeing her had previously caused.  
  
"Still fancy her, mate?" Ron asked teasingly.  
  
"Nope," Harry answered simply. "There's nothing there now."  
  
Ginny, who had watched the exchange between Harry and Cho with interest, finally spoke up. "That's good," she said definitely, and Ron gaped at her.  
  
"I agree with Ginny," Hermione said, reaching over and pushing Ron's chin up to close his mouth. "Harry really needs someone a bit less emotional, I think."  
  
"When you've all finished discussing my love life!" Harry said irritably, and the conversation abruptly ended, all three of his friends looking slightly offended. Harry got up from the table, ignoring the puddings that had just appeared. "I'm going up to the common room," he said shortly. He was not certain why he felt so annoyed, but he did know that discussing Cho in front of Ginny felt very awkward for some reason.  
  
"Harry," Ron called after him. "What about our run?"  
  
"I'll go in the morning," Harry answered, without looking back.  
  
"Here we go again," Ron said grumpily after Harry had left. "Why do we always shave to bear the brunt of his temper?"  
  
"Because there's no one else," Ginny replied simply.  
  
"Why not Malfoy?" Ron suggested.  
  
"Don't be stupid, Ronald," Hermione replied snappishly. "If Harry let his temper get the best of him with Malfoy, he'd hex him into oblivion. At least we don't have to worry about that."  
  


* * *

  
The throne room was empty but for two black-cloaked figures, one seated on the throne, the other kneeling at the foot of the dais. "Are the preparations in place, Lucius?" asked the cold voice of the Dark Lord.  
  
"Yes, My Lord," drawled the kneeling figure. "We are prepared to strike upon your command."  
  
"Good," replied the man upon the throne. "You are certain our information is correct regarding the squib?"  
  
"I am certain, My Lord."  
  
"Then there is only one thing left to be done. I think it is high time we paid Potter a visit. No doubt he will enjoy tonight's festivities."  
  
"It has been far too long, My Lord," Lucius Malfoy answered maliciously, cold anticipation lacing his voice.  
  
"Prepare yourself, Lucius," the Dark Lord commanded, and Malfoy obediently slid his mask over his face.  
  
"I am ready," Lucius said, standing as the man on the throne rose to his full height. At the slightest of nods from Voldemort, the two men Apparated noiselessly to a dark and rather bedraggled-looking front lawn, soggy from the September rain. Surrounding them were several other masked figures, all of whom bowed slightly in the presence of the Dark Lord, awaiting his signal to begin the attack.  
  
"It is time," Voldemort hissed, "You will give Lucius and myself thirty seconds with the boy, and then you will bring the squib to me." He raised his wand, concentrating his considerable power on the mind of his young nemesis, and pointed it at the Death Eater standing to his right.  
  
" _Mentis iunctum legilimens_!" he intoned, and the connection was made between master, servant, and the boy walking alone through the corridors of Hogwarts.


	20. The First Mark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The war begins in earnest...and of course, Harry sees the first move.

Harry knew he was going to have a long night. He had to finish the Wolfsbane essay for Snape, and he also had another, shorter essay due in Charms. He had barely started Snape's essay in the library during their study period, and he already knew it was going to be incredibly difficult. Harry had yet to figure out why a trace amount of silver, a poisonous substance to werewolves, was crucial to Wolfsbane. His Charms essay would be much easier, but he had not even begun it.  
  
Harry felt slightly ashamed of himself for storming out of the Great Hall. He and his friends regularly gossiped and teased about one another's crushes and love interests. Why was this time any different? Against his own will, Harry's thoughts wandered to Ginny Weasley. If he was to be completely honest with himself, the reason the comments about Cho had bothered him so much was that Ginny had been there. She had said it was good that he no longer had feelings for Cho, but why had she said that?  
  
Harry had just made up his mind to ask Hermione about it when the scar on the forehead exploded in pain, and he yelled with all his might, remembering just as he fell to his knees what Tonks had said about being alone when he was attacked and afterwards. He could feel their presence before he could hear them, and he slammed the doors of his mind and pushed against Voldemort and Lucius Malfoy with all of his strength. " _Not now_ ," he thought furiously. " _Get out_!" Harry strained, sweat running in rivulets down his face and back, using his every bit of defense against the attack, but the force of his resistance soon began to run out.  
  
" _Ah, Potter. You have been practicing, I see. Fool! You will never defeat me_."  
  
" _Get OUT_!" With one last furious push, Harry used his remaining strength. The pain in his scar was such that he was certain his head would break in two, and the pressure in his head increased exponentially.  
  
" _Really, Potter. A little humility in the presence of your superiors, please. Ah, but humility has never been a strength of yours, has it_?" Lucius Malfoy drawled as he and the Dark Lord felt the release of Harry's defenses dropping.  
  
" _I have something I want you to see, Potter_ ," Voldemort said in an evil hiss. The blackness in Harry's head receded to be replaced by dim evening light and the yellow glow of electric streetlamps. In front of them was a small house with a bedraggled, soggy lawn. A gray tabby cat with the same flat face and bandy legs of Hermione's cat Crookshanks hissed at them from behind a tree, but fell where it stood as it was hit by a streak of green light from the wand of a masked figure standing to Voldemort's right. Harry's heart gave a jolt of fear and the pain in his forehead increased yet again. He knew exactly where they were.  
  
"Bring out the squib," Voldemort ordered, and two Death Eaters emerged from the front door of the house, a terrified-looking Arabella Figg being held between them, her eyes wild and her housecoat hanging off her small body sloppily.  
  
"What do you want?" Mrs. Figg asked, trying to sound brave but unable to hide the tremors in her voice.  
  
"You have nothing to offer us, Squib," said the contemptuous voice of Bellatrix Lestrange.  
  
"You have been offered a chance to aid us once before," Voldemort said in a cold, unmerciful voice. "But you failed to bring Harry Potter to us, a deed that I am sure you realized would not go unpunished. You have been helping them hide him from me, Squib."  
  
Mrs. Figg opened her mouth as though about to retort, but no sound came out. She looked up at the monstrous face of the most feared wizard in history with terror in her eyes but also some pride. She may have been a squib, but she had been proud to do her small part in protecting Harry Potter from the inhuman monster now standing before her. The fear left her eyes as she glared up at Voldemort, who spoke no more before uttering his curse.  
  
" _Crucio_!" he cried, pointing his wand at the old woman as the Death Eaters flanking her released their hold and she fell to the ground, screaming, tumbling off the step of her front stoop. Harry could feel the immense power of the spell as Voldemort unmercifully held his wand on Arabella Figg. What was more, he could feel the Dark Lord's pure pleasure, his _enjoyment_ of what he was doing.  
  
Voldemort lifted the spell, leaving Mrs. Figg in an incoherent heap on the ground, bleeding from where her knees had hit the rough cement of the garden path. "Have you had a change of heart, Squib?" he sneered.  
  
Arabella Figg did not, could not reply. She was a very old woman, and the curse had done more damage than her body could handle. She did not move, but raised her eyes to the Dark Lord in a final act of defiance.  
  
Harry felt another surge of horrifying pleasure as Voldemort uttered the most unforgivable of the Unforgivable Curses. A jet of green light flared from the tip of his wand, and Arabella Figg was no more.  
  
The last thing Harry saw was Bellatrix Lestrange's wand pointed into the dusky sky, and he heard the gleeful shout. " _Morsmordre_!"  
  
Blackness engulfed Harry's vision once again, and grief for his batty old neighbor surged through his entire being, giving him the power to push against the Dark Lord and his servant once again. With every ounce of strength he could muster, he forced Voldemort and Malfoy back out of his mind, and the last thing he felt was the surprise in both of their minds as he finally broke the connection.  
  


* * *

  
Neville Longbottom, Seamus Finnegan, and Dean Thomas left the Great Hall a few minutes after Harry, having decided to take their run in the morning before breakfast when they were not feeling so full. Most of the Gryffindors were still enjoying their dessert, laughing and gossiping about mundane things, but Dean had purchased a large box of pranks from Weasley's Wizard Wheezes in Diagon Alley, and the three were hoping to have the dormitory to themselves as they looked over the merchandise. None of the three sixth-years were pranksters by nature, but what teenaged wizard could resist the lure of nose-biting teacups, fake wands, and skiving snackboxes?  
  
They had just emerged from the staircase into the seventh-floor corridor when they heard a loud shout from around the corner and the distinct thud of books and body hitting the stone ground. Neville glanced nervously at Seamus and Dean as they sped up, rounding the corner to find out what the commotion was about.  
  
To say they were shocked to see Harry on the ground in the hallway, his face white and soaked with perspirations, his expression contorted in pain, his body seizing, would have been an understatement. For several moments the three just stood there, staring at their friend, terror written clearly in their eyes.  
  
"Go get somebody, quick," Neville whispered, and made his way slowly to Harry, kneeling next to him but not touching him, completely unsure of what he should do.  
  
Seamus broke into a run back to the stairwell and down to the Great Hall, where most of the teachers were still at dinner. Dean continued to stand still, staring in horror at Harry, who had stopped seizing and gone completely limp. Having shared a dormitory with Harry, all three of the boys had witnessed his nightmares the year before, but this was very different. Although they had no idea what was happening, something was clearly very wrong.  
  
As they waited for Seamus to return, Neville placed his hand on Harry's limp wrist, and was extremely relieved to feel Harry's pulse pounding furiously under the skin. For a moment he had been afraid someone had attacked Harry, who hardly looked alive.  
  
As Neville removed his hand from Harry's wrist, resolving to simply stay with him until help arrived, Harry's body jerked again and his face tensed as new beads of sweat appeared on his forehead and gleamed in the torchlight, illuminating his scar, which had turned an angry red. The seizure only lasted for a moment this time, and as Harry's body relaxed once again Neville was pushed rudely aside as Professor McGonagall bent over him.  
  
Neville watched as Professor Dumbledore joined McGonagall beside Harry, and he heard her say, "It has happened again, hasn't it?"  
  
"I am afraid so, Minerva," Dumbledore answered gravely, and he conjured a narrow stretcher next to them and levitated Harry's body onto it. As he began to slowly walk towards the hospital wing, the stretcher floating magically in front of him, Professor McGonagall turned to Neville, Seamus, and Dean, who were watching the scene in astonishment. Neville wondered what McGonagall had meant when she had said it had happened _again_.  
  
"Boys," she began, and her voice sounded gentler than they were used to. "Did you see what happened?"  
  
"We were just heading back to the common room, Professor," Seamus began, "and we heard someone shouting. When we got here Harry was on the floor, and he was having some kind of a fit. Neville said to get someone."  
  
"After that, he went still," Neville continued, shivering a bit at the memory. "I didn't know what to do."  
  
"Mr. Longbottom, there was little you could have done," McGonagall answered him, still in her unusually gentle voice.  
  
"What happened, Professor?" Dean finally spoke up, his voice still horrorstruck.  
  
"Mr. Potter will be fine," the professor responded, not answering their question, and her tone suggested that she would not be forthcoming with any more information. "Professor Dumbledore has taken him to the hospital wing."  
  
Neville gulped slightly, but he asked, rather more bravely than he normally would have done, "Professor, you said this has happened before..."  
  
"Yes, Mr. Longbottom, I am afraid it has, but I will tell you again that Mr. Potter will recover." The three boys all nodded at her. "You three go back to your common room. You may see Mr. Potter tomorrow."  
  
Without another word, they all turned back towards the portrait of the Fat Lady, not daring to question the Transfiguration teacher further. As they filed into the common room, all thoughts of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes had left their minds. They ignored the other Gryffindors and trod silently up the stairs to the sixth-year dormitory to discuss what they had seen.  
  


* * *

  
Remus, Molly, Fred and George were sitting at one end of the long table in the kitchen of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place finishing a dinner of chicken stew when the fire in the kitchen grate burned emerald green and the stately form of Minerva McGonagall stepped into the kitchen. None of them were overly concerned; it was common for Order members to floo into and out of headquarters on a regular basis, and the serious look on her face was, after all, not so different from the serious look she usually wore.  
  
"Good evening, Minerva," Remus greeted her as she came over to the table. "I assume you've already eaten?" he inquired politely, knowing that she would have already had dinner in the Great Hall with the students.  
  
Professor McGonagall did not respond to his question but said quietly, "You are needed at the school, Remus."  
  
Remus looked alarmed, but before he could answer Molly broke in, "Has something happened?"  
  
"It appears that Harry has suffered another attack," Professor McGonagall answered calmly, but as they peered at her, they could see the concern in her eyes. "He was on the seventh floor corridor when it happened, and he was found almost immediately by three other students."  
  
"How is he now?" Remus asked quickly, standing up from the table and pulling his cloak from a hook on the kitchen wall. "Is he awake?"  
  
"He is in the hospital wing, of course," McGonagall answered, "but he does not seem to be in any danger at present. He is not yet awake. The Headmaster asked me to come for you, Remus."  
  
His ragged cloak fastened somewhat haphazardly, Remus headed towards the grate, Molly close on his heels. McGonagall put a hand on Molly's arm and told her, "The Headmaster feels it would be best if Remus came alone tonight. You will, of course, be more than welcome in the morning." Her voice was kind, but quite firm.  
  
"Harry needs -" Molly began furiously, but Remus interrupted her.  
  
"Molly, I'm sorry, but I think Dumbledore is right this time. Harry will feel smothered if he awakens to a crowd of people beside his bed. I will contact you as soon as I know anything."  
  
"Lupin is right, Mum," George broke in, seeing that his mother was about to insist upon going to the castle. "Harry won't like all the attention."  
  
Molly relented, but everyone in the room could see that she was fighting against every motherly instinct she had. "You'll let me know how he is, Remus?" she asked worriedly.  
  
Remus had been about to throw glittering floo powder into the grate, but he stopped and put his free hand on Molly's arm. "Of course I will," he told her gently, and stepped into the grate, disappearing in a whirl of green flame. Minerva McGonagall bid the Weasleys goodbye and followed.  
  
Molly and her twin sons had just finished cleaning the kitchen after the small supper, working rather faster than usual due to their anxiety, when Arthur strode quickly into the room.  
  
"Arthur!" Molly exclaimed in surprise. "We didn't expect you for hours! Remus is at Hogwarts -" but she did not get a chance to finish.  
  
"The Dark Mark has been spotted above Little Whinging," Arthur interrupted, slightly out of breath. "I need to contact Dumbledore. Arabella Figg is dead."  
  
Molly clapped her hand over her mouth, her eyes filling with tears, and the twins wore identical expressions of horror as all three realized that the attack on Harry had not been a coincidence.  
  
"If Dumbledore does not know yet, he will soon," Molly whispered sadly. "Harry was attacked again tonight. You'll need to get to Hogwarts and tell Dumbledore and Remus what has happened, and quickly. I'm afraid Harry will have seen the whole thing."  
  


* * *

  
Remus stepped out of the fire and into the Headmaster's office, and was not surprised to find it empty. He headed straight for the door to the revolving staircase as he heard Professor McGonagall arrive behind him. He stopped for a moment as a thought occurred to him.  
  
"Minerva, someone needs to tell Ron and Ginny Weasley and Hermione Granger what has happened, before they hear it from another student," he told her. He knew Harry's friends would be extremely worried as soon as they had heard, and they would need reassurances that Harry was going to be all right. He, himself, was not willing to go to them, however. As Harry's guardian, his responsibility was to get to the hospital wing and to be there when Harry awoke.  
  
"I will go wait for them in the common room," she replied, knowing that Lupin was right. Neville Longbottom really had no idea what had happened, and if Harry's friends heard from him first, they would likely panic.  
  
Remus nodded at her and then hurried to the hospital wing. He strode quickly to the bed in which Harry lay, and was relieved to find that Harry was the only occupant of the room at present. Dumbledore was speaking softly to Madam Pomfrey in the corner, and nodded to Remus as he pulled a straight-backed chair next to Harry's bedside.  
  
Moony studied his sleeping charge carefully. As he always did after an attack, Harry looked pale and drawn, and his hair was damp with perspiration. Remus sighed. He didn't know how much more of this Harry could take. They simply had to find out how Voldemort and Lucius Malfoy were staging their dual attacks, for he knew this had been another one. By now, Harry could have pushed Voldemort alone out of his mind with relative ease.  
  
He didn't know how long he had sat beside Harry's bedside when Albus Dumbledore finally joined him. He had seen the Headmaster leave the room for a few minutes and return, looking, if it were possible, even graver than he had before. He signaled Remus to join him on the other side of the room.  
  
"Arthur Weasley has brought some terrible news, Remus," he began sadly, sounding very old indeed. "Arabella Figg has been killed. Kingsley Shacklebolt was on duty in Little Whinging and spoke to Arthur, who was to relieve him tonight after he left the Ministry. The Death Eaters shot the Dark Mark into the sky but they had all Disapparated by the time he arrived at Arabella's home from Privet Drive."  
  
Remus bowed his head in grief. He had not known Mrs. Figg well, but he had liked the old woman quite a lot. He also knew that this was only Voldemort's first public move. There would be so many, many more. He only wished Kingsley could have gotten there in time, but his task had been to watch the Dursley's house on Privet Drive, and the Death Eaters would not have conjured the Dark Mark until the deed was done.  
  
A sudden thought broke through his sadness, and Remus looked up into the eyes of the Headmaster. "Harry saw, didn't he?"  
  
"We will not know for certain until he wakes up, but yes, I believe that Harry saw," Dumbledore replied. "Arabella Figg's death and the casting of the Dark Mark signals the beginning of the Second War. Voldemort would have wanted Harry to see it, would have wanted to flaunt his power."  
  
Remus nodded and sighed deeply. Now that Voldemort was aware of the full contents of the prophecy, he would stop at nothing to break Harry Potter in any way that he could.  
  
Across the room Harry stirred slightly, and Remus went to him immediately. The boy was not awake yet, but his eyes fluttered and he sighed in his sleep, curling into the fetal ball that Moony was all too familiar with. He sat back down in the straight-backed chair, knowing Harry would awaken soon.  
  
The door opened softly behind him, and Minerva McGonagall came in quietly with Ron, Hermione, and Ginny following her closely. She had tried to convince them and then order them to stay away for the night, but they had to see with their own eyes that Harry was going to be all right. They gathered at the end of his bed, staring at him sadly, thinking as Remus had that the scene was all too familiar. Everyone had known that it would happen again, but it didn't make it any easier for most of them to understand.  
  
Remus quietly greeted them and asked them kindly but firmly to return in the morning. "You all know what Harry has had to go through tonight," he whispered to them. "Madam Pomfrey has assured me that he will completely recover, and I know he will want to see you tomorrow. For now, however, Harry needs quiet."  
  
To Remus's surprise and relief, the three teenagers did not argue with him. They only nodded sadly in acceptance and told him that they would come in the morning before breakfast. "Tell Harry for us," Ginny whispered, "Tell him we love him and we'll see him tomorrow, okay? Tell him we were here."  
  
"I will, Ginny," Remus promised, and he watched Harry's friends walk slowly out the door, their shoulders hunched in worry. They had far too much on their shoulders for school-aged children, Remus knew, but Harry's burden was so much heavier.  
  
Harry stirred again, and this time his eyes fluttered open. He straightened, and his hand groped around his bed for his glasses, which Remus handed to him. Harry turned, startled, but relaxed when he saw the familiar face of his guardian smiling gently at him.  
  
"How do you feel, Harry?" Remus asked his standard question, and Harry knew better by now than to tell Moony that he was fine.  
  
"Mrs. Figg is dead," he stated quietly.  
  
"Yes," Remus answered.  
  
"He tortured her...used Cruciatus...she fell off her stoop...and then he killed her!" Harry said, his voice growing louder and angrier as he became more aware and the events of the attack rushed back into his consciousness. By now, Dumbledore had come to Harry's other side, listening intently as Harry recounted exactly what had happened.  
  
Harry looked up at Remus, tears filling his green eyes even as fury took over his expression. "She never did anything to him, Moony. She never fought him. The only thing she ever did was to have me over for tea, and he killed her for it."  
  
It was Dumbledore who answered Harry this time. "That is not the only thing she ever did," he stated quietly.  
  
Harry stared at him blankly. He had known that Mrs. Figg had been watching him his entire life with the Dursleys, but she was not even capable of performing magic. What could she possibly have done to Voldemort to warrant her murder?  
  
"The fact that she was a Squib was enough reason in and of itself for Voldemort's attack. had she not been involved with the Order, her attack most likely would have simply been another act of the Death Eaters and not Voldemort himself. They prey upon the weak, Harry, Muggles and Squibs as well as unsuspecting members of the Wizarding community who have never done anything more than try to live their own lives in peace," Dumbledore continued.  
  
"But why did Voldemort kill her himself? Why did he want me to see it?" Harry asked, and then he remembered something that the Dark Lord had said to Mrs. Figg. "Wait a minute. While he was attacking her, Voldemort said that she had been offered a chance to aid him before."  
  
Dumbledore nodded. "After your hearing at the Ministry, it became a well-known fact that there was an old Squib near your home on Privet Drive, and, although she never said specifically that she was watching you, that fact was assumed by many, including Lucius Malfoy, who had been told the details of the hearing by none other than Cornelius Fudge himself."  
  
Harry swore softly and then looked up at the Headmaster, who pretended he hadn't heard and continued, "Shortly after that, Lucius Malfoy went to the home of Arabella Figg and made her an offer - if she would reveal your whereabouts and lure you out of your home during the following holiday, Voldemort would grant her the magical power that she had always yearned for."  
  
"Can he do that?" Harry asked.  
  
"I do not believe that he can," Dumbledore said. "Magic is an ancient trait which must reside in the witch or wizard from the time that they are born. It cannot be forced into someone who does not have that gift."  
  
"Did Mrs. Figg know that?" Harry asked, trying to make sense of what he was hearing.  
  
"It does not matter," Dumbledore replied. "Arabella Figg would never have done anything to harm you, and I believe she made that quite clear to Mr. Malfoy during his visit. Surprisingly, he left without another word, and we have been afraid that something of this nature would happen."  
  
"Then why didn't you protect her?" Harry asked, beginning to feel angry again. "Why didn't you do something?"  
  
"Arabella's home has been surrounded by powerful wards ever since Lucius Malfoy's visit," Remus broke in, "and the guard watching your aunt and uncle's house was also assigned to watch her. We stationed two guards when it was possible, but it was not always something that we could manage."  
  
"How did he get past the wards?" Harry asked, and Dumbledore's frown deepened.  
  
"I do not know the answer to that question, Harry. It is something I would quite like to know myself," he said sadly, and turned to Lupin. "Remus, it is becoming clear to me that our source of information has been compromised in some way and also that it is quite possible that we have a spy in our midst. We must be very careful."  
  
"I have to stop him," Harry said suddenly, his voice more fierce than either of the two older men had ever heard. "I have to stop him now, before more innocent people get killed."  
  
Remus looked at him sharply. "Harry, you are not ready for that fight."  
  
"And I'm supposed to just sit back and watch other people die while I just continue on with my lessons, am I?" Harry retorted angrily.  
  
"If you fight before your time, Harry, the consequences will be grave. With your defeat, Voldemort will have broken through the only barrier to his immortality," Dumbledore said calmly. "I understand how you are feeling, but your time has not yet come."  
  
Harry knew this was true, but he could not help feeling that any more attacks would be his responsibility. If the prophecy was correct, and he was the only one with the power to vanquish Voldemort, more innocent people would certainly die for every day that Harry delayed.  
  
"Then get me ready," he said quietly, with a hard edge to his determined voice. "Tell me what I have to do."  
  
Dumbledore studied him carefully. There was a furious light in Harry's eyes now, one that he had not seen before. Harry was becoming proactive, no longer willing to wait for something to happen to him before he acted. The sudden change in his student was disturbing to the old Headmaster, even if he knew it was necessary.  
  
"Before we do anything else," Remus replied, "you have to get some rest from this attack, Harry. You have to recover."  
  
"Recover from what?" Harry asked. "I'm not sick, I'm not hurt. I used a lot of energy pushing them out, but -"  
  
"Harry?" Dumbledore interrupted. "Did you say 'pushing them out?'"  
  
Harry nodded. "I couldn't do it until the end though, until after...after she was dead."  
  
Remus leaned forward intently. "Are you certain that you pushed them out and that the attack did not simply end after Arabella's death?"  
  
"Of course I am," Harry said indignantly. "They were surprised that I could do it. They weren't ready to go yet."  
  
"How do you know they were surprised, Harry?" Dumbledore asked.  
  
"I felt it, the same way I have always felt Voldemort's emotions," Harry answered. Why was this such a big deal?  
  
"Harry, this is an incredible accomplishment," Dumbledore said. Remus nodded in agreement, pride gleaming in his eyes even through the sadness.  
  
"What's so great about it?" Harry asked bitterly. "It didn't do anything to save Mrs. Figg. If I had been able to get them out earlier -"  
  
"Voldemort still would have killed Arabella Figg," Dumbledore interrupted him clearly. "Harry, there was nothing you could have done, and the fact that you were able to push both Voldemort and Lucius Malfoy out of your mind at all is quite amazing, especially considering that we have not yet managed to find out how they are accomplishing this."  
  
"After only a few weeks of Occlumency training with Professor Dumbledore, you have mastered it to a higher level than most wizards ever do," Remus added.  
  
"I still need to learn more," Harry told them firmly, and he finally remembered to ask Dumbledore about the special training McGonagall had mentioned. "Sir, Professor McGonagall mentioned other training you wanted me to start on."  
  
"Yes, Harry, I believe you are ready," Dumbledore told him gravely.  
  
"The Unforgivables?" Harry asked bluntly.  
  
"No," Dumbledore replied. "I do not believe you would ever be able to cast a Killing Curse, Harry. Understand that this is not a question of power, it is a question of feeling."  
  
Harry must have looked confused, because Remus explained, "Think about the amount of positive energy it takes to perform the Patronus Charm. That is why it is so hard for many wizards to conjure - it takes an incredible strength of will to call upon such great positive power when faced with the most negative of beings, creatures whose existence depends solely upon depriving others of happiness."  
  
Harry nodded. Although he had been proud of his ability to conjure a Patronus in his third year, it was not something he thought much about anymore.  
  
"The Unforgivable curses work in much the same way," Dumbledore said, "especially the killing curse. They take extreme power of will, but the emotion behind them is precisely the opposite of that which is required by the Patronus. To master the Unforgivable curses, Harry, you must be able to harness hatred powerful enough that it can end another's life. You were unable to do this in the Department of Mysteries after Sirius was taken from you, and I must say that it is my hope that you will never possess the amount of hatred required for those spells."  
  
"Then how will I do it?" Harry asked directly, looking straight into the Headmaster's eyes. "If not the killing curse, then how?" He wondered but did not dare to ask whether Dumbledore was able to cast them. He wasn't sure he wanted to know.  
  
"There are many ways of destroying a man, Harry," Dumbledore said. "I promise you that when your time comes, you will be ready."  
  
"Then what is the special training you are going to be giving me?" Harry asked.  
  
"We will still be working on your Occlumency skills, Harry, although as Remus has said, you have mastered it beyond any expectations. We will also be progressing into Legilimency, and we will expand upon your defense and dueling training."  
  
"Legilimency?" Remus asked sharply. He had not heard this part of the plan, and he was not at all certain that he approved of it.  
  
"You want me to spy on Voldemort?" Harry asked.  
  
"No, Harry," Dumbledore answered quickly, silencing Remus with a glance. "To use Legilimency in such a way would be incredibly dangerous, and it is not a risk that we are willing to take. I do, however, believe that mastery of Legilimency will be one of your greatest assets when the time comes for you to battle Voldemort."  
  
"If Harry uses Legilimency against Voldemort, he will be more vulnerable than he ever has been, Albus," Remus argued vehemently, almost forgetting that Harry was in the room.  
  
"And I will repeat, Remus, that Harry will not use this skill until he is ready," Dumbledore insisted. "But it is a necessary part of his training."  
  
Harry was annoyed that the two men were now discussing him as if he were not there. "Moony," he said firmly, "if that is what I have to do, then it is what I am going to do." His tone left no question to his determination.  
  
"I will be happy to discuss this with you further, Remus," Dumbledore said, a note of finality in his voice, "but this is not the time, nor the place."  
  
Almost as if Madam Pomfrey had been waiting for Dumbledore to say those words, she bustled out of her office. The Headmaster had insisted that she allow them to talk to Potter when he woke up, but she felt as though they'd had quite enough time with her patient for the night. She walked past Dumbledore and bent over the side of the bed opposite Lupin and examined Harry closely.  
  
"I'm fine, Madam Pomfrey," Harry said immediately.  
  
"I'll be the one to say when you are 'fine,' Mr. Potter," the nurse said firmly. "Honestly, with the amount of time you have spent in my care, I would think you would know that by now."  
  
Dumbledore chuckled softly, and she rounded on him. "Headmaster, I have given you the time you requested, and now I must insist that you both leave Potter to his rest."  
  
Dumbledore nodded at her, told Harry he would return the next day, and left the room to go back to his office. Remus, however, made no move to get up from the chair beside Harry's bed.  
  
"You too, Lupin," Madam Pomfrey told him.  
  
"No," Remus said firmly. "I will allow Harry to have his rest, but I am his guardian, and I will be staying with him tonight."  
  
"Moony, you don't have to," Harry began, once again feeling that strange mixture of annoyance with the protectiveness of his guardian and the desire to spend more time with him. "Go back to Grimmauld Place."  
  
"Sorry, Harry," Moony said, guessing correctly that no matter how annoyed Harry felt with the attention, he was happy to have someone near who cared about him. "I'm staying here, at least until tomorrow. We'll talk about it more then."  
  
Madam Pomfrey huffed her displeasure, but because Lupin was Potter's guardian and held all the authority of a parent, she had no choice but to allow him to stay. She poured a large quantity of purple potion into a goblet for Harry and set it on his bedside table, warning him that if he was not asleep within five minutes she would insist that Remus leave. Harry obediently drank the potion. Within minutes, was in a peaceful, deep sleep, his magical and physical reserves replenishing themselves so that when he woke up, he felt quite normal once again.  
  


* * *

  
When Harry put his glasses on the next morning, sunlight was streaming into the hospital wing from the eastern windows, and he was not surprised to find that Mrs. Weasley, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny had joined Lupin by his bedside. He smiled sleepily at all of them as they turned their attention towards him.  
  
"Harry, dear, how are you?" Mrs. Weasley asked anxiously, bending to hug him. "I've been so worried."  
  
"Fine, Mrs. Weasley," Harry answered her, returning the hug. "I feel fine."  
  
"We should have gone after you," Hermione said worriedly. "We should have been there. We should -"  
  
"Hermione," Harry said firmly. "You can't be with me every moment, and you wouldn't have been able to change anything that happened anyway." As he said this, the memory of Mrs. Figg's horrible death resurfaced, and he turned his head away from them for a moment, willing himself to control his emotions.  
  
"We know about Mrs. Figg, Harry," Ginny said quietly to the back of his head. She reached out and squeezed his shoulder. "We're all so sorry."  
  
He turned back to them, some of the same determination he had shown the night before now evident on his face. "He won't stop there," he said fiercely.  
  
"We know, mate," Ron spoke up for the first time, but beyond that, he did not know what else to say.  
  
Harry had been about to say more, but he remembered that the Weasleys and Hermione did not yet know about the prophecy, and he was not quite ready to tell them. He cast about for a change of subject, and he noticed a large pile of candy and an odd package on his bedside table.  
  
"What's all this?" he asked, indicating the gifts.  
  
"Fred and George sent it all," Ron replied. "They thought you could do with some sweets, as it is a well-known fact that Madam Pomfrey doesn't serve pudding with the meals up here. I don't know what this is," he continued as he picked up the small, narrow package. There was a note attached to it.  
  


> _Dear Harry,_
> 
> _Don't open this in front of Mum._
> 
> _Cheers,_
> 
> _Fred and George  
> _

  
Harry grinned slightly and slid the package underneath his covers discreetly, glad that Molly was distracted with filling his water jug at the moment. He showed the note to his friends, and they all grinned and made Harry promise that he would tell them what the twins had sent next time they visited.  
  
They talked for a few more minutes when Hermione suddenly looked at her watch and gasped. "We've missed breakfast!" she exclaimed. "And we've only got five minutes to class! Harry, do you want me to turn in your Potions essay for you?"  
  
Ron gaped at her. "Hermione, Harry's in hospital! Surely you don't expect him to have done homework last night?"  
  
"Ron, I'm sure Harry already finished it," Hermione said, and then looked at Harry. "You have, haven't you?"  
  
"Er - " Harry said, uncomfortably aware of Mrs. Weasley and Hermione looking at him sternly, and Ginny and Ron trying not to laugh.  
  
Hermione sighed but said reluctantly, "Well, I suppose that Harry has had quite a lot happen this week, but I hope you two aren't planning on leaving your homework so late all year!"  
  
Harry suddenly grinned at her. It was so typical of Hermione to be worried about homework, even with everything else that was going on.  
  
"Ron, Ginny, Hermione, you had best be getting to class," Molly said, ushering them all to the door. They all waved back at Harry as they went their separate ways, walking very quickly to avoid being late. Molly followed them with the idea of getting Harry's breakfast.  
  
"Harry, how are you feeling this morning?" Lupin asked, speaking for the first time from the straight-backed chair, where he had been dozing uncomfortably.  
  
"I feel fine, Moony. When can I leave?" He knew that word would have spread fast that he was in the hospital wing already this year, and he was not looking forward to the jeers Draco Malfoy was sure to send his way.  
  
Remus smiled slightly. "Madam Pomfrey wanted to keep you through the weekend - "  
  
"No way!" Harry interrupted. "I don't need to be here that long, I feel fine, honestly, better than I have ever felt after an attack!"  
  
"That in and of itself proves how much stronger your Occlumency shield has become, Harry," Remus replied. "Now, as I was saying, Madam Pomfrey wants you to stay here through the weekend, but I have convinced her to allow you to leave tomorrow morning if she is satisfied that you have recovered."  
  
"Are you sure that is not too soon, Remus?" Molly asked worriedly, handing Harry a plate of kippers from the Great Hall and setting his glass of water beside his bed. She had come in just in time to hear Remus's last comment. "Doesn't he need more rest? Last time -"  
  
"Last time was different, Mrs. Weasley," Harry said quietly. "This time, they were not as much attacking my mind as forcing me to come into theirs, and I was able to fight them off in the end."  
  
"Yes, dear, and we are all very proud of you," Mrs. Weasley said, patting his cheek, "but you need some time to recover and some good rest."  
  
"I don't have time to lie around," Harry told her firmly. "I need to get back to my classes and get back to my training."  
  
Remus wisely broke in then, sensing that this was about to escalate into an argument. "Let's just see what Madam Pomfrey has to say, all right? In the meantime, I need to speak to Professor Dumbledore about some things," he said, sensing that Harry needed some time to himself. "Molly, why don't you come with me while Harry eats his breakfast? We should all probably discuss some Order business."  
  
Harry knew that the "Order business" they were planning on discussing probably concerned him, and as irritating as he found that fact, he was glad that it meant he could eat his breakfast in relative peace. Mrs. Figg's murder had ignited a spark in him that was more than just grief, more than just anger - Harry could not quite name what it made him feel, but he wanted some time to try to sort it out.  
  
Throughout the morning, Harry had visits from Professors McGonagall and Tonks, each of whom only stayed for a few minutes, Arthur Weasley, who flooed in on his way to the site of more anti-Muggle pranks, and Neville, Seamus and Dean on their way to the library for their study period. All of these visits went as expected, although the one with his classmates was rather awkward at first. After a few moments, however, their conversation veered into discussions of Fred and George's shop and the box of pranks Dean had brought.  
  
"That reminds me," said Harry, checking to make sure Mrs. Weasley hadn't come back before taking his package out from under his covers. He opened it and laughed as a long, flesh-colored string fell into his lap.  
  
"What's that, Harry?" Dean wondered.  
  
"One of Fred and George's inventions. Extendable Ears!" He explained how they worked, and the other boys were very impressed and disappointed when Harry told them they were not being sold in the shop for security reasons.  
  
After the boys left, it was another hour before Harry's most surprising visitor of the day came through the door. Molly and Remus had been in and out, but Harry stared as the door opened and Ginny Weasley walked in on her own, right about the time lunch would have been beginning in the Great Hall.  
  
"Ginny, what are you doing here?" Harry asked, bewildered. "You already saw that I'm okay. Go on to lunch; I've already had mine."  
  
"Oh, I told them that I had to revise for Transfiguration," she said, blushing slightly. She sat down on the side of Harry's bed. "I just wanted to come in and see you, to tell you..." she trailed off.  
  
"To tell me what?" Harry said, suddenly very aware of the softness of her skin as she took his hand in both of her small ones.  
  
"It's just that after what happened last night, I wanted to tell you how sorry I am for the things I said to you by the lake on Monday. I can't even begin to imagine what you've been going through. Having to see what you've seen..."  
  
"Ginny, you don't have to apologize," Harry told her sincerely.  
  
"No, I do," Ginny interrupted. "I'd go mad if I were you, always having people following me around, especially considering everything you have to deal with."  
  
"Sometimes I feel like I'm going mad," Harry admitted, and he realized that it was something he could only say to her. Somehow, over the course of the summer, she had become a person that he could talk to about how he felt without being embarrassed.  
  
Ginny leaned forward and brushed Harry's fringe back from his face, and Harry's gaze moved into her deep brown eyes. Without really considering what he was about to do, he gently pulled her to him and kissed her.


	21. Old Fires, New Flames

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lupin lets Snape know what he thinks of his treatment of Harry while the Gryffindors hold a highly-attended Quidditch tryout.

"You had no authorization to do what you did, Severus," Remus said, struggling to remain calm as he faced the Potions master. Tonks had told him what had happened on the first day of classes, and his first visit after he had gone to talk to Dumbledore had been to the dungeons.  
  
"I had every right, as a member of the Order, to check on Potter's progress," Snape said smoothly. "I must admit the boy has improved, although his insolence still knows no boundaries."  
  
"What did you expect after you attacked him like that?" Remus asked coldly. "It was the first day of classes, Severus! Harry wasn't expecting -"  
  
"And you think the Dark Lord will wait until Potter is expecting an attack from him?" Snape interrupted.  
  
"That does not give you the right to attack him!" Remus was beginning to show signs of his temper. "Nobody told you to do that, and had you asked Dumbledore would have forbidden it!"  
  
"And how do you know I did not talk to the Headmaster about this, Lupin?"  
  
Remus stopped. It seemed impossible to think that Dumbledore would have given permission for Snape to attack Harry, especially on the first day of term when Harry needed to be concentrating on his new classes and spending time with his friends. He thought for a moment, and then said in a low voice, "Let me just say this, Severus, and listen carefully, for I will not repeat myself. Harry needs to be able to trust the adults around him right now. Yes, Severus, even you," he added, because it looked as though Snape was about to interrupt. "You are to treat Harry as you treat the rest of your students. You are not to attack him. If Dumbledore feels it is necessary to test his skills in that way, I will be the one to do it. Not you."  
  
"I will not have you coming into my office and ordering me about, Lupin. My decisions regarding my students are mine to make," Snape bit back.  
  
"You will find that you are wrong there," Lupin said. He leaned forward so that his face was inches from Snape's nose. "I am Harry's guardian. As such, I will not be allowing any more mistreatment of him, especially by you." He stopped for a moment, took a deep breath, and decided to try to reason with the man in front of him, a man that so obviously still harbored a deep grudge for events that had happened years ago.  
  
"Let go of your hate, Severus. James and Sirius are both dead," he said bluntly, choking a bit on his words. "Harry is not responsible for the actions of his father and his godfather. Do you not see what the boy is being put through? The last thing he needs is to be suspicious of those of us he should trust the most."  
  
"Black is dead and many others could have died because Potter didn't bother to master Occlumency last year. I, for one, do not want to be the next fatality caused by his inability to take instruction and his conviction that he knows more than the rest of us."  
  
Remus's eyes hardened and his face went white with fury as he pulled his wand out of his pocket and pointed it straight at the throat of the Potions Master. "Never, _ever_ say anything like that again, Snape," he snarled, looking somewhat more like a werewolf than he usually did. "If you hurt Harry again, not one of your precious potions will be enough to repair the damage I will do to you." Remus turned quickly and exited the dungeons before he lost his temper entirely.  
  


* * *

  
Madam Pomfrey released Harry from the hospital wing before breakfast on Thursday morning, admonishing him to take it easy and advising him to miss Quidditch tryouts the following evening.  
  
"Miss Quidditch tryouts?" Harry said incredulously.  
  
"Potter, while you have recovered remarkably quickly this time, you must not push yourself," Madam Pomfrey warned in her no-nonsense voice. "Professor McGonagall informs me that you have already secured a place on the team, so why take the risk?"  
  
"I'm not missing Quidditch," Harry said stubbornly. He had been looking forward to Quidditch all week, especially since Ron had been made Captain.  
  
Madam Pomfrey looked to Lupin, who was just pulling on his traveling cloak, for help, but he only shrugged. "As long as Harry promises to stop if he gets tired," he said reasonably, "I don't see why we should keep him from playing." He knew that Harry needed the release that he got from flying much more than he needed additional rest.  
  
Harry shot Moony a grateful look, and Madam Pomfrey scowled. Seeing that Harry was dressed and everything seemed to be in order, she bustled back to her office, mumbling under her breath.  
  
Moony grinned. "She's always been like that," he said. "I remember one time when James was in here after taking a Bludger to his shoulder, she told him that he should rethink whether or not he should play Quidditch at all - he was always getting injured at the games."  
  
"Why'd he get hurt so much?" Harry asked interestedly. He had known, of course, that his father had been a Chaser on Gryffindor's house team when he had been at school, but aside fr om that, he didn't know much.  
  
The two walked out of the hospital wing and towards the Great Hall. Remus smiled reminiscently. "Well, you see, Harry, James had the unfortunate habit of drawing attention to himself during the games. He could never resist stunting on his broom, especially when he knew your mother was in the stands, but even so, he scored more than any other Chaser at school. I'm afraid the Beaters from all of the other house teams found him rather irritating."  
  
"Did Mum like that?" Harry asked.  
  
"Well, no," Remus admitted, "at least not for the first few years. Once they started dating in their seventh year, I think she thought it was rather entertaining although she would never have admitted it."  
  
"What made her decide to go out with him?" Harry asked. This had been on his mind a lot ever since the rather sudden kiss between him and Ginny the previous day. She had not been back to see him since, and he wondered if he had done something wrong.  
  
"James toned down his arrogance quite a bit as he got older," Remus answered. "When Lily first found out that he was going to be Head Boy while she was Head Girl, she was furious, but they actually got on very well. Their first date was the first Hogsmeade weekend of the term, and they were inseparable after that."  
  
They reached doors to the Great Hall, and Remus pulled Harry into a short, one-armed hug. "Your training starts on Monday, Harry. Work hard, and write me if you need anything at all, all right?"  
  
"All right, Moony," Harry answered, waving as Remus crossed the Entrance Hall and left the castle. Harry turned and entered the Great Hall, pointedly ignoring Malfoy, who called out loudly, "Have a good stay in the hospital wing, Potter?"  
  
"Oi! Harry, over here, mate!" Ron called from the end of the Gryffindor table, where he had been eating breakfast with Hermione, Ginny, Seamus, Dean, and Neville. Harry grinned at his friends and walked quickly to them. Ginny blushed as she smiled at him, and quickly moved over so that he would have room to sit next to her.  
  
"How are you, Harry?" Hermione asked as Harry began piling scrambled eggs and toast on his plate.  
  
"I'm fine," he answered. "Looking forward to Quidditch tomorrow. Any of you lot trying out for the team?"  
  
Ginny nodded. "I'm still trying out for Chaser," she said as if everyone at the table didn't already know that.  
  
"I think I might try out for the other Chaser position," Seamus mused. "I got a new broom for my birthday, a Cleansweep 11."  
  
"That's what I have," Ron answered. "It's a good broom, mate. Are you any good?"  
  
Seamus shrugged. "I'm okay," he said modestly.  
  
"We'll see tomorrow then, won't we?" Ron told him, unconsciously puffing his chest out a bit. Harry rolled his eyes, careful to keep his face averted so Ron wouldn't see him.  
  
"Harry, did you finish Professor Snape's essay?" Hermione asked. "We've got another one for Monday."  
  
Harry nodded. He had finished it the night before in the hospital wing after Hermione had brought him a pile of books from the library. Moony had helped him a little bit, but as Moony, by his own admission, was not a master potions maker, he had not been much use. Harry didn't know how good his essay was, but at least it was done. "I've got to take it down to Snape sometime before lunch today," he said.  
  
"Tonks told me to tell you that she expects to see you tonight for the evening run," Ron said, his mouth full of bacon.  
  
"But Harry's just got out of hospital!" Hermione exclaimed.  
  
"Tonks is right," Harry said shortly. "It's important. I'll be there, but after this I'll probably run in the mornings."  
  
"I'm going with you lot," Ginny said, and they all looked at her in surprise. She hadn't gone on any of the runs so far this week, and as a fifth year, she wasn't required to.  
  
"Why would you want to do that if you don't have to, Ginny?" Ron asked.  
  
"Just because I'm not in N.E.W.T. classes yet doesn't mean I won't have to fight," she said simply, and Harry nodded. She smiled at him and continued, "Besides, it won't hurt me to be in better shape for Quidditch, would it?"  
  
"You know, that's a good point," Ron mused. "Maybe I'll have everyone on the team do that. It couldn't hurt." Everyone at the table groaned.  
  
As the discussion turned once more to the upcoming Quidditch tryouts, Ginny waited until everyone was distracted and tentatively took Harry's hand under the table. "Are you really feeling okay, Harry?" she asked softly.  
  
"I really am, Ginny. I'm just ready to start training," Harry answered.  
  
"More Occlumency?" Ginny asked.  
  
"Yeah," Harry answered, but he was starting to realize that he could not keep his secret for much longer. His friends were going to wonder what he was getting up to and why he was required to complete extra training.  
  
"What are you two talking about?" asked Hermione, who was sitting next to Ginny and had noticed that their attention was no longer on the conversation. She happened to glance down, and a huge grin spread across her face when she saw their entwined hands. She said nothing, however. Ron would find out when Harry and Ginny were ready to tell him.  
  


* * *

  
During dinner on the night of Quidditch tryouts, Harry couldn't help but notice that there were many more brooms propped up against the table than he would have expected. He counted at least fifteen besides those of the regular team members. He wondered if people realized that there were only two positions to be filled and that one of those was almost certain to go to Ginny.  
  
"All right, everyone," Ron called. "Tryouts begin in half an hour. You lot that are already on the team, let's get to the pitch and get warmed up. I want us in top form, so we can see how any new players will fit in." Harry noticed how much more confident Ron's voice sounded than it usually did, and he reflected yet again on what a good choice McGonagall had made for Captain.  
  
Harry grabbed his Firebolt and followed Ron down to the pitch eagerly. He couldn't wait to get into the air again. As he pulled on his scarlet robes for the first time of the season, he grinned to himself. The weather was perfect - clear and cool with just the slightest breeze - and it seemed to him that his Firebolt was humming with the same anticipation that he felt.  
  
The team proceeded onto the pitch and at Ron's whistle, kicked hard off the ground and soared upwards, flying in close formation as they passed the Quaffle back and forth in warm-up. After about fifteen minutes, Ron noticed that the house-team hopefuls were looking up at them from the ground, brooms in hand. He blew the whistle, calling his team to surround him in the air.  
  
Harry's cheeks were flushed with excitement; his troubles seemed so far away when he was flying, and the exhilaration of zooming up and down the pitch made him feel more alive than he had in a long time. He slowed down as he joined his four teammates, who were hovering in a bunch about twenty feet off the ground.  
  
"Right," Ron said. "We've got quite a lot of people trying out this year, so I think we're going to play them two at a time - I'll alternate them in and out to see how they work with each other as well as with the rest of you. I'll be taking the Keeper's position, of course, and I want you, Sloper, to release one of the Bludgers on my whistle. Harry, since we're not trying out any Seekers, I'm not going to release the Snitch." Harry nodded - it was growing darker outside, and while there would be quite enough light to put the Chasers through their paces, the Snitch could easily get lost. Ron continued, "I want you to fly defensively, Harry and Kirke - try and take the Quaffle from the Chaser hopefuls, and don't go easy on them." Harry grinned at Andrew Kirke, one of the beaters that had replaced Fred and George last year, and they both nodded their understanding to Ron.  
  
"All right then," Ron said, "Let's get started." The team floated slowly down to the field to a spot in front of the queue of hopefuls. Harry noticed that Ginny was at the front of the line, followed by Seamus, Colin Creevey, and an assortment of third through fifth years.  
  
"Okay," Ron called after he had taken the names of the hopefuls down. "Team, get in the air. Weasley and Creevey, you're up first. Join Katie Bell at center field. On my whistle...three, two, one..." Ron blew his whistle hard and soared through the air to the three hoops at the end of the pitch.  
  
Ginny and Katie Bell passed the Quaffle expertly between one another, but Colin seemed to be too nervous to get a good grip on it, dropping it twice so that Harry and Andrew had to go into steep dives to catch it. After one of these dives, Harry passed the Quaffle back to Katie, who passed it to Ginny as she swerved to avoid a bludger. Harry grinned and flattened himself to his broom, speeding straight towards Ginny. Ginny saw him coming and seemed to panic for a moment, deciding to pass the ball to Katie, which was the wrong move. Harry intercepted it easily.  
  
"You'll pay for that, Potter!" Ginny screamed, and he noticed that there seemed to be some real anger in her voice. Harry didn't answer, but passed the Quaffle back to Katie. Ginny did not allow for another interception throughout the whole tryout, even after she had switched back and forth with several of the other hopefuls. Harry was impressed - he had known that she was a good Seeker, but to see her play Chaser was to see her in her true element.  
  
It took an hour and a half to try everyone out to Ron's satisfaction. He sent the hopefuls into the stands while he conferred with his team on the ground in the middle of the pitch. "What do you guys reckon?" he asked them all.  
  
Katie spoke up immediately. "Ginny Weasley was by far the best," she said definitely.  
  
"Yeah, she was good," Ron conceded, and Harry could tell that he was glad Katie had spoken first, as Ron did not want to be accused of favoritism. "OK, so Ginny's on. Who else?"  
  
"Seamus had some good moves," Harry pondered. "But he let go of the Quaffle pretty easily. Andrew and I both got him at least once."  
  
"What about Meg Jackson?" Jack suggested. "She seemed to be pretty good, and she dodged that bludger and still managed to hold onto the Quaffle." Meg Jackson was a petite fourth year who Harry didn't know very well. She was rather plain and seemed a bit shy, but she had flown well that day.  
  
"Yeah, she was all right," Harry agreed.  
  
"Creevey was a disaster," Ron said. "He's got a lot of spirit, but we need more skill than that, so he's out."  
  
"How about Ginny and Meg, then?" Katie suggested.  
  
"Agreed, team?" Ron asked. They all nodded, and Ron strode quickly over to the stands where the hopefuls were waiting and flew up to their level. "Right," he called. "The new Gryffindor chasers are Ginny Weasley and Meg Jackson. Thank you to everyone that came out. Ginny and Meg, come on out to the pitch and join the team."  
  
Harry couldn't help but notice that Seamus shot Ron a look that was pure poison as he exited the stands with the others who had not made the team. He pushed it out of his mind, however, when Ginny came running up to him, throwing her arms around his neck.  
  
"Congratulations, Ginny!" Harry said, picking her up and whirling her around. "You had to know that you'd get it, though. You flew brilliantly tonight."  
  
Ginny blushed as they stopped whirling, and for a moment Harry thought it was because of the compliment he had given her, but then he turned and saw Ron staring at the pair of them, a strange expression on his face. Harry released Ginny quickly and felt heat come into his own cheeks as well.  
  
Ron didn't look at either one of them directly as he quickly went through the training schedule for the month before their first match against Slytherin in October. When the team had disbanded and the original members had gone to the locker room to change out of their team robes, Ron was strangely silent, and Harry waited until everyone else had gone before he approached him.  
  
"Ron?" he asked. He wondered if his best friend was upset at the apparent affection between him and Ginny.  
  
Ron finally looked at Harry, his expression serious but not angry. "Harry," he asked. "Is there something I should know about with you and Ginny? I saw you talking yesterday at breakfast, and then you both stayed up late in the common room last night..." his voice trailed off.  
  
"Well," Harry said, trying to figure out how to put it. "I don't really know, exactly."  
  
"Come off it, Harry, I can tell you fancy her," Ron said bluntly. "And we all know she's liked you since her first year."  
  
"I really like her, Ron," Harry admitted. "I'm not sure what's happening, though. When you and Hermione got together this summer, Ginny and I spent a lot of time together."  
  
"This has been going on since the holidays?" Ron asked incredulously, as if term had not just started.  
  
"No," Harry quickly corrected him. "No, it started on Wednesday when I was in the hospital wing, and I'm not sure what's going on yet."  
  
Ron finally smiled at him. "Well, it's not like we didn't all know this was going to happen," he said, and then his expression became serious again. "Look, though, there's just one thing I have to say."  
  
Harry was a bit worried. It was not like Ron to be quite this serious. "What, mate?" he asked.  
  
"Best friend or no, if you hurt her, it's the last thing you'll ever do," Ron said grimly, but then he grinned at Harry. "So you'd best watch yourself."  
  
"I will," Harry said, relieved that Ron seemed to be taking everything in stride.  
  
Both boys shouldered their brooms and began the trek back up to the school. When they were about halfway there, Ron stopped. "Er, Harry?" he asked. "What happened while you were in the hospital wing?"  
  
Harry only smiled. He wasn't quite ready to share that experience with anyone. Upon seeing the look on Harry's face, Ron groaned. "Never mind, I don't want to know," he said, and Harry jabbed him in the ribs.  
  
"So," Ron said, eager to get the subject off of Harry and Ginny now that he had said what he needed to say, "Sloper and Kirke are better this year, eh?"  
  
"Yeah," Harry agreed. "They must have practiced over the summer or something. Sloper didn't miss the Bludger once, and Kirke was actually pretty good at intercepting the Quaffle from the Chasers. His reflexes have gotten better."  
  
"Got a pretty good team this year, haven't we?" Ron said with some pride, and they discussed Gryffindor's hopes for the Quidditch Cup for the third year running as they headed back up to the common room.  
  
As they climbed through the portrait hole they were greeted by the noise of the Gryffindors as they excitedly discussed the new team. The consensus seemed to be that Ginny had been an obvious pick, but everyone seemed to be surprised that Meg had made the team. Very few people had ever actually noticed her before, as she seemed to prefer to do her homework in the library and go to bed early.  
  
One person, in particular, was less than thrilled. Seamus Finnegan said very little, but kept shooting angry glances towards Ron as he got ready for bed in the dorm much later that night.  
  
"Seamus?" Ron asked tentatively. "Look, mate, it was nothing personal..."  
  
"Nothing personal!" Seamus scoffed. "You chose that fourth year over me!"  
  
"Look, as Captain, I can't play favorites!" Ron said, hoping to make Seamus understand. "She flew better than you did tonight."  
  
"Didn't have any problems playing favorites when you chose your sister, did you?" Seamus retorted.  
  
"Ginny's a good flier," Dean commented quietly.  
  
"Damn right she's a good flier," Ron said, the tips of his ears beginning to glow red. "And I'll have you know that Katie Bell was the first person who suggested her!"  
  
"Oh, I'm sure you were only too happy to agree with her," Seamus growled. "I bet you did. Didn't he, Harry?"  
  
"We all did, Seamus. Ginny was the best out there tonight," Harry replied calmly.  
  
"Yeah, take his part, Potter," Seamus retorted bitterly. "I've seen you and his sister together lately. How could she not make it, with her brother as Captain and her _boyfriend_ as Seeker?"  
  
"That had nothing to do with it, Finnegan," Ron yelled, finally losing his temper completely. "Look, I'm sorry you didn't make the team, but I had to choose the best we had, and tonight that was Ginny and Meg!"  
  
Seamus didn't reply, but jerked the hangings around his bed closed so that he was hidden from the rest of them. They could all hear his angry mutters as he got under the covers.  
  
Despite the fact that he was worried about Seamus's anger with Ron, Harry couldn't help but smile a little as he pulled his own hangings and settled down into his familiar four-poster. Seamus had said he was Ginny's boyfriend, and even though Harry knew that they hadn't really gotten to that stage yet, he liked the sound of the word.  
  


* * *

  
_He was soaring through a stormy sky, his hair ripping backwards in the fierce wind, his glasses spattered with rain. He couldn't see the Snitch anywhere, and he was far above the game.  
  
"Come on, kiddo, you can do better than this!" A voice punctuated by a familiar, bark-like laugh echoed clearly through the roaring wind, and Harry turned his head to find Sirius Black, his godfather, flying next to him, his long hair blowing wildly around his face.  
  
Harry laughed, accepting the implied challenge, and leaned forward onto his broomstick, speeding up. Sirius easily kept pace with him, taunting him playfully as he searched for the Snitch.  
  
Suddenly, a bolt of green lightning ripped from the clouds and struck Sirius squarely on the chest. With a look of surprise on his face, Sirius tumbled off his broom and was swallowed by the murky grayness of the clouds.  
  
"Sirius!" Harry yelled with all his might, but it was no good. Sirius's broom fell after him, and before Harry even had a chance to absorb what had happened, Ginny had caught up to him, grinning, her red hair tied back into a long ponytail.  
  
"Catch me if you can, Harry! A kiss to the winner!" she laughed as she sped ahead of him. Without even meaning to, Harry caught up to her, but before he could say anything else, another bolt of green lightning hit Ginny full in the face, and she, too, fell into the swirling grayness, her mouth open in a silent scream.  
  
"No!" Harry yelled, and he dropped into a steep dive. He could catch her. He had to catch her.  
  
His dive was blocked by Ron, who looked angry. "Slytherin's ahead 70-40, Harry. Why haven't you caught - "  
  
He was unable to continue as a third bolt of lightning hit him in the stomach, and he gasped as he and his broom dropped out of sight.  
  
"Ron!" he yelled as his broom stopped. He watched with horror as the sky went from gray to black, and suddenly, from all around him, he heard the dreaded incantation, "_Morsmordre _!" The Dark Mark, glittering a sinister green, erupted right in front of his eyes_.  
  
"Harry! Wake up, mate!" Ron's sleepy but panicked voice edged its way into Harry's mind, and he sat bolt upright in his bed, looking at the blurry face of his best friend, who was standing right above him.  
  
"What is it, Harry?" Ron asked quickly. "What's happened?"  
  
Seeing Ron right in front of him had the effect of reassuring him that his friends were all fine, that it had just been a nightmare, not a vision. He wasn't ready to talk about it yet, however. "Nothing," he muttered. "Just a bad dream. Sorry for waking you up."  
  
"You sure?" Ron asked doubtfully.  
  
"Yes," Harry answered. "Go back to bed, Ron."  
  
Ron looked suspiciously at Harry for a moment, but went slowly back to his bed and climbed in. Ten minutes later, his deep snores told Harry that Ron had gone back to sleep.  
  
Harry knew that he would not sleep any more that night, so he went down to the common room to sit in front of the fire and think. He knew his dream had been nothing more than a dream, born of his fear of losing his friends. As Harry stared into the embers that remained from the evening's fire, he felt, instead of the usual despair, a firm resolve blossoming in his chest. His eyes hardened as he looked into the grate.  
  
"It will not happen," he said out loud. "I _will_ stop this."


	22. Trials, Triumphs, and Training

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Malfoy slips up - Voldemort's not going to be happy about that - and Harry begins Legilimency training with Professor Dumbledore.

Hermione chattered away about Silencing Potions as she and Harry headed down to Snape's dungeon for Potions on Monday morning. "Really," she said. "It can't be harder than Wolfsbane, can it?"  
  
"Not much could be," Harry answered truthfully. "How did the rest of the class do on that potion?"  
  
"Oh, Professor Snape was in quite a temper on Wednesday," Hermione said darkly. "You should have heard him going on. He said that none of our potions would so much as begin to prevent the mind transformation of a werewolf."  
  
"Even yours?" Harry asked in surprise.  
  
"Well, no," Hermione admitted. "He didn't mention it when he was ranting at the class, but I got an 'E' on mine. He said it hadn't given off enough steam."  
  
Harry snorted. "I bet he just couldn't stand to give you an 'O' on the first day of term, Hermione."  
  
"I'm certain I made it correctly," Hermione said. "Still, though, he's the professor, isn't he? And we know he's an expert at the potion because he makes it for Professor Lupin every full moon."  
  
"Come off it, Hermione," Harry said automatically. He didn't know why she continued to defend Snape. He, for one, was certain that Snape would find any excuse possible to mark down either one of them.  
  
As they reached Snape's dungeon, someone grabbed Harry's arm from behind. As he spun around, wand at the ready, he was not surprised to see the pale face of Draco Malfoy, glaring at him maliciously, a snide grin on his face.  
  
"So, Potter," he breathed. "It's too bad about the Squib. Did you enjoy the show?"  
  
Hermione grabbed Malfoy's arm and jerked it away from Harry with enough force to make both of them stumble. "Get away from us, Malfoy," she said fiercely.  
  
"I wasn't talking to you, Mudblood," he retorted, and turned back to Harry, who was still trying to work out exactly how Draco knew about what he had seen on Tuesday. "So Dumbledore has been teaching you Occlumency, Potter? What a waste of time. The Dark Lord will always be more powerful than a stupid half-blood like you could ever be. He will take you whenever he chooses."  
  
"Oh he will, will he?" Harry responded, nonplussed. "How come he hasn't done it, then? Still here, aren't I? And did your dad's old mate ever bother to tell you that he's a half-blood himself?"  
  
Draco looked a bit surprised at this comment, and the snide grin disappeared to be replaced by a look of deepest loathing. "You don't know what you're talking about, Potter," he spat. "Dumbledore won't be around to help you forever. After the old fool is gone, your days will be numbered. Power, indeed. You will never triumph over the Dark Lord." He stalked past them and through the open door of the Potions classroom.  
  
Harry started a bit at Malfoy's final remark. It seemed impossible to think that Draco Malfoy would know the prophecy. Then again, Malfoy always seemed to get information from his father. Had Lucius Malfoy told him? Harry realized once again that the time was drawing closer for him to talk to his friends about the prophecy. He didn't want them to hear about it from anyone but him.  
  
Predictably, Snape ignored Harry all the way through the Potions lesson just as he always did after they had a confrontation, pretending to look across the room at Pansy Parkinson's potion as he handed Harry a small bottle containing last week's sample marked with a very small, almost indistinguishable 'E'. It was probably a good thing for Harry and Hermione that Snape had focused his attention elsewhere. His mind still reeling about just how much Draco Malfoy knew, Harry did not pay much attention to his potion, and Hermione kept desperately muttering corrections at him as she worked on her own, which, as usual, looked just like it was supposed to.  
  
Even with Hermione's help, by the end of the period Harry's potion did not look any better than Neville's would have, had he still been in the class. Instead of a translucent opal color, Harry's potion was dark purple and smelled like the lavatory on Privet Drive after Dudley had taken his turn. Sighing, Harry put a small amount of the potion in a vial, hoping he would be able to at least get some points for the attempt, and took it to Snape's desk. The Potions master did not speak to Harry at all, but looked from the purple liquid and then back up at Harry with a malicious light in his eyes. Harry knew then that he might as well not have bothered turning it in - he would not be getting any points for it whatsoever.  
  
"What happened in there, Harry?" Hermione asked as they were walking towards the library to meet Ron for the study period. "You did so well last time. You were hardly paying attention today."  
  
Harry thought for a moment, and then decided to be as truthful as possible. "It was Malfoy," he answered.  
  
"Honestly, Harry, you can't let him get to you like that," Hermione sighed. "It's been the same since first year."  
  
"This wasn't the same, Hermione," Harry said. "Didn't you hear him ask me if I 'enjoyed the show?'"  
  
Hermione's brow furrowed. "Yes, but..." A look of comprehension came across her face. She couldn't believe that she hadn't caught it before, but she had been so worried that Harry was going to lose his temper and hex Malfoy right in front of Snape's classroom. "How did he know you saw it? No one told anyone what happened - even Neville, Seamus, and Dean didn't know."  
  
"I know," Harry said. "I guess his father must have told him...unless..."  
  
"Unless what, Harry?"  
  
"What if Malfoy is really one of _them_ now?" Harry asked, his words tumbling out quickly.  
  
"One of them?" Hermione asked. "You mean a Death Eater? Harry, no way...Draco's still in school, he'd never be. Not yet. His father must have told him about the attack."  
  
"I guess," Harry replied, unconvinced. He had the uneasy feeling as they sat down next to Ron and took out their books that Hermione might, for once, be wrong.  
  


* * *

  
That night in the common room, Harry was playing a half-hearted game of chess with Ron, his mind really on tomorrow's session with Dumbledore, when he felt a soft tap on his shoulder. Starting slightly, he looked behind him to find Ginny, a troubled expression on her face.  
  
"Harry, can I talk to you for a minute?" she asked.  
  
"Er, sure, Ginny," Harry said, ignoring Ron's teasing grin as he forfeited the match. "You want to take a walk? We've got an hour until curfew."  
  
She finally smiled at him. "That sounds good," she answered, and her grin widened as Harry took her hand to lead her to the portrait hole.  
  
"Oi, you two!" Ron called after them. "Mind that all you do is walk!"  
  
Ginny rounded on him. "Honestly, Ron. Just because you can't stop planning your next snog-fest with Hermione doesn't mean that the rest of us have our minds in the gutter!"  
  
Ron's ears turned bright red - she had responded loudly enough that the whole common room was now hooting with laughter. Ron tried to pretend he didn't hear them as he hastily put away the chess set and stalked up the stairs to the boys' dormitory. Harry and Ginny chuckled as they turned and climbed through the portrait hole.  
  
Once they were a fair distance down the corridor, Ginny squeezed Harry's hand and asked, "I just wanted to know...is there something wrong?"  
  
"No, nothing's wrong," Harry answered in confusion. This was not what he had expected.  
  
"It's just that you've barely looked at me all weekend. I was just wondering if maybe you regretted what happened in the hospital wing."  
  
Harry stopped short. "Why?" he asked quickly. "Do you?"  
  
"No!" she exclaimed, and then blushed as she tried to make her voice sound normal. "It's just that...well...I thought maybe we would spend some time together this weekend, but all you did was work on your homework. Even at Quidditch practice you barely spoke to me."  
  
"Oh," Harry said, wracking his brain for the right thing to say. "No, it's just that...er...I guess I was a bit preoccupied this weekend. Trying to catch up from the classes I missed while I was in the hospital wing," he added unconvincingly.  
  
"Don't give me that, Harry Potter," Ginny said, pulling her hand away from his. "I've known you longer than five minutes, you know. If you don't want to tell me what's going on, fine, but don't lie to me." Harry was more than a little confused at Ginny's abrupt change in attitude until she said tartly, "If you don't want to be with me, just tell me that. Don't try to make up excuses."  
  
So that was what she was on about! Harry almost laughed, but then remembered the consequences he had faced last time he had laughed at a girl he liked. He had ended sitting in Madam Puddifoot's alone with cold, confetti-filled coffee in front of him, being stared at by every happy couple in the place. "Ginny, trust me, it's not that," he said, trying to take her hand again, but she pulled away.  
  
"Then what?" she asked boldly.  
  
Once again, he decided to be truthful. It's not like she wouldn't find out about it if she asked Ron, and he knew she would if he didn't answer her. "I had a nightmare on Friday night. About Sirius," he said, not telling her that she and Ron had also been part of it. He didn't want to frighten her; he knew it had only been a nightmare. "I guess I was a little tired after that. I didn't get much sleep."  
  
Her expression softened, and she reached forward and took his hand. As they continued down the hall, she asked, "Do you want to talk about it?"  
  
Harry shrugged. He didn't really want to talk about it at all, but he was afraid he would offend her if he refused, so he said, "It wasn't much different than the ones I had all summer."  
  
"About Sirius going through the veil?" she asked. She and Harry had talked a little bit about his nightmares over the last part of the summer. He nodded. That was close enough to the truth.  
  
"Maybe you should ask Madam Pomfrey for a Dreamless Sleep Potion, Harry," Ginny said kindly. If Ron or Hermione had suggested this, Harry would have been irritated, but for some reason it didn't bother him when Ginny said it, maybe because she didn't tend to hover quite as badly as his other friends.  
  
"I don't get them that often anymore," Harry said honestly. "I'm okay, really. So, what do you want to do over the weekend?"  
  
"Oh, I don't know," Ginny said as they reached a dead end of the deserted corridor. "Maybe...this." She boldly pulled Harry's arm to bring him closer to her, and she stood on tiptoe to kiss him.  
  
This kiss was nothing like the one in the hospital wing. That one had been very soft, almost tentative. This time, as Ginny pressed her lips onto his, Harry felt as though his entire body was on fire, and for a moment, he was completely still. Then, almost as if he had been planning this the entire time, he bent his head into the kiss and wrapped his arms around Ginny. It was so different from kissing Cho. For one thing, Ginny wasn't crying, but for another, it just somehow felt so much more natural, so much more right.  
  
The kiss finally broke off, and Harry and Ginny grinned at one another.  
  
"Wow," Ginny said, leaning her head on his chest.  
  
"Yeah," Harry responded, sure Ginny could feel his heart pounding into her ear, and then he grinned even more widely, remembering yet another mishap with Cho that he was not eager to repeat. "So...you want to go to Hogsmeade with me?" he asked her.  
  
"Er...okay..." Ginny answered, "But the first Hogsmeade weekend hasn't even been announced yet, Harry. I hope you're not planning on ignoring me until then."  
  
For an answer, Harry once again bent his head down to kiss her. Ginny didn't know it, and Harry didn't even consciously realize it, but she had given him something tonight that no one else could have. She had given him another reason to fight.  
  


* * *

  
"You fool." The contemptuous voice of Lord Voldemort, dripping with displeasure, echoed through the small dungeon chamber. Draco bowed his head and tried not to tremble. He had heard the Dark Lord speak in this tone before, and it had shortly been followed by the worst pain Draco had ever felt in his life.  
  
"I apologize, My Lord," he said softly, hoping to appease Voldemort's wrath.  
  
"Your father told me you were dependable," Voldemort hissed. "Perhaps you are just a child after all. I have no patience for idiot children, young Malfoy."  
  
"It will not happen again," Draco said.  
  
"Is that all you have to say?" asked Voldemort in a low, dangerous voice. "Because of your stupidity, our plan could be revealed. Did I not tell you that no one was to know of your mission at Hogwarts?"  
  
"You did, My Lord."  
  
"And were you not instructed to observe Potter, but not to allow him to find out what you were doing?" Voldemort continued, his voice growing even more menacing.  
  
"Yes, My Lord, but..."  
  
"Silence! I have no patience for Death Eaters who risk their missions. You will be punished for this, Malfoy, and you will see that nothing of this sort happens again."  
  
Draco did not respond, so determined was he not to show his fear. A moment later, he knew that the Dark Lord had gone, and he stood up shakily, smoothing out his robes. It was quite late at night, but he knew he would get very little sleep.  
  
As he walked back to the Slytherin common room, Draco wondered who had told Voldemort about his confrontation with Potter. Whoever it had been was going to pay.  
  


* * *

  
Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny arrived from their morning run, hot and sweaty, about halfway through breakfast. The post owls arrived just as Harry was contemplating skipping breakfast to have a shower.  
  
"We've got to get up earlier," he said to the others as the owls flew overhead, delivering messages and parcels to various students.  
  
To Harry's great surprise, one of the school barn owls dropped a small scroll into his orange juice before flying off. Before he had time to wipe the parchment off and open it, however, he was distracted by a loud gasp from Hermione, which was soon echoed by quite a few other students in the Hall. The reason became apparent as Hermione spread her copy of the Daily Prophet open on the table in front of her.  
  


_**Dementors of Azkaban Join You-Know-Who:  
Mass Escape of Known Death Eaters  
**  
Early Tuesday morning, September 10, the Dementors that previously guarded Azkaban prison resigned their positions with the Ministry, leaving the prison fortress unguarded. Ministry insiders inform us that it is believed that the Dementors have joined You-Know-Who._

_Upon the public revelation of You-Know-Who's return in early June, the Ministry informed the public that the Dementors had indeed joined You-Know-Who. That report, however, was recanted three days later when Minister for Magic Cornelius Fudge announced that the report of their disloyalty had been in error and that the creatures remained in the Ministry's employ. Now that the Dementors have vanished from Azkaban Fortress, members of the Wizarding community are demanding answers._

_"There must have been some truth to the Ministry's original report that the Dementors had revolted," said an angry-looking Florean Fortescue, of Number 89, Diagon Alley. "I do not understand why the Ministry did not expel the Dementors the moment their loyalty was questioned. I, for one, will be writing a letter to the Wizengamot demanding Cornelius Fudge's immediate expulsion from the office of Minister for Magic."_

_This reporter cannot help but be reminded of the escape of ten notorious Death Eaters from Azkaban earlier this very year. The Minister for Magic insisted at that time that the Death Eaters had been aided by murderer Sirius Black, the only wizard previously known to have escaped the prison. Black's whereabouts are currently unknown, but it is clear that he alone could not have orchestrated the mass revolt of the Dementors. Only He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named could have accomplished this._

_Among the escaped prisoners is one Lucius Malfoy, a formerly prominent member of the Wizarding community found to be a Death Eater following the attack on the Ministry of Magic in June. It is believed that Malfoy is one of You-Know-Who's greatest supporters. His whereabouts are currently unknown, but the ministry has placed a guard around Malfoy Manor, his family's estate. Narcissa Malfoy, Lucius Malfoy's wife, was unavailable for comment._

_For more information and a complete list of names of the escaped Death Eaters, please see page 2a. For tips on fighting Dementors, please see page 29c._

  
  
Harry looked up from the papers, fury written clearly on his face. It was not the report of the revolt that infuriated him; everyone in the Order had suspected from the dual attacks on Harry that the Dementors had already joined Voldemort, despite what the Ministry claimed. It was the slur on Sirius and the fact that the reporter had called him a murderer, that made his blood boil in anger.  
  
Ginny seemed to know exactly what had angered Harry so much. "His name hasn't been cleared," she said sadly. "Did no one tell them how he died?"  
  
"It wouldn't have mattered if they had," Harry said bitterly. "Fudge lost too much credibility when he had to admit that Voldemort had come back. He wasn't about to admit he was wrong about anything else, was he?"  
  
"I suppose not," Hermione sighed. "Still, it's not right."  
  
"No, it's not," Harry said furiously. "Sirius died fighting those Death Eaters that everyone is so afraid of, and they still talk like he is one of them! It all fits right into Voldemort's hand, doesn't it? Fudge was so eager to make himself look good in the _Daily Prophet_ that be bought the bit about the Dementors not having joined Voldemort without batting an eye." Harry swore loudly, causing Professor McGonagall to glare at him from the teacher's table and Hermione to elbow him in his side.  
  
"Fudge is so valuable to Voldemort's side that he might as well be a Death Eater himself," Hermione said bitterly.  
  
"What do you mean, Hermione?" asked Neville, who had apparently been listening to the entire exchange.  
  
"What I mean is that if the Ministry were being run efficiently by someone who actually cared about doing the right thing, it would be much harder for Voldemort to take over, wouldn't it?"  
  
"Hermione, would you stop saying that name?" Ron whispered loudly, his face pale, and she ignored him.  
  
"For example, if we had a Minister for Magic that wasn't so afraid of the political fallout, the world would have known that Voldemort returned an entire year ago, wouldn't they? There is no better way to destabilize a stable society than to elect a leader who cares more for politics and policies than for people, and more for his own reputation than for doing his job." Hermione took a deep breath. "That's what I mean, Neville, when I say that Fudge is as valuable to Voldemort as any one of his Death Eaters."  
  
Everyone at the table stared at Hermione for a moment, their mouths slightly agape. It was apparent that most of them had never actually considered how much Fudge's idiocy had actually helped Voldemort's cause. You did not have to be a Death Eater to open the doors of the world to evil; you simply had to be one person who did not care.  
  
"Harry, what's that?" Ron asked, pointing to the soggy parchment still lying by Harry's plate of uneaten toast.  
  
"Oh," Harry said, having forgotten all about the note. "One of the school owls brought it to me. Just a minute." He opened the parchment and scanned it quickly. "It's from Hagrid," he said, showing them the short note. "He wants me to have tea tonight after classes. He wants to meet me up here, though. Doesn't want me to walk down alone." Harry scowled slightly at this. Hagrid's hut was not far from the castle, and it would still be light outside. He was perfectly entitled to walk down there on his own.  
  
"We've got Quidditch at six," Ron said immediately.  
  
"I could go straight to the pitch from Hagrid's," Harry said. "I'll take my Firebolt, okay?"  
  
"I wonder why he only sent this to you?" Hermione asked, seeming a little put out. "I haven't seen him yet either. Ron and Ginny are the only ones who have his class this term."  
  
"I dunno," Harry shrugged. The truth was, he was glad he would get a bit of time away from the others. Their constant attention was smothering at times, and he wondered if he would ever be left alone. Especially after the attack on the seventh-floor corridor, it seemed unlikely.  
  
"You have prefect duty tonight anyway. We'll go see him tomorrow, Hermione," Ron said, squeezing her hand. "Neither of us have prefect duty then."  
  
Hermione nodded, but Harry could tell her feelings were still a bit hurt. He wondered why Hagrid had asked to visit with him, and not the others. He didn't have much time to ponder it, though, because he noticed that the Great Hall was starting to empty. Morning classes started in ten minutes, and he was due in Professor Dumbledore's office. He and Ginny left the Great Hall together, hand in hand as was their new habit, as the Headmaster's office was not far out of the way to her first class.  
  
When they reached the stone gargoyle, Harry gave Ginny a quick kiss, muttered, "Merlin, I love that I can do that," and watched her walk back down the hall, marveling at their new relationship. It just seemed so _obvious_ \- why had they not gotten together sooner?  
  
Just as Harry was about to say the password, he heard Dumbledore's distinctive chuckle as he came towards his office from the opposite direction. Harry's back had been to him and he flushed with embarrassment as he turned.  
  
"Ah, no need to be embarrassed, Harry," Dumbledore said in an amused voice, correctly reading Harry's expression. "To find happiness with one another in these dark times is a great gift, and one that should not be wasted. Miss Weasley is a fine young woman."  
  
"Er..." Harry stammered, not really knowing how to respond to this. He overcompensated by turning to the gargoyle and saying "Sugar Quill" in an unnecessarily loud voice. The gargoyle jumped aside to reveal the familiar staircase, and Dumbledore followed him, still chuckling, onto it.  
  
They were only halfway up the staircase when Harry felt the gentle tickle that was Dumbledore's presence in his mind. He automatically put up his defenses and pushed the Headmaster out with ease. This time, Dumbledore had not even been able to get past the outer walls of Harry's mental fortress.  
  
"That was excellent, Harry," Professor Dumbledore congratulated him as they walked into the circular office.  
  
"You're pretty easy, now," Harry said without thinking, and then flushed again. How could he have said that to Dumbledore, of all people?  
  
"Am I, now?" Dumbledore asked lightly, and immediately Harry felt a strong push into his mind that caused him to stumble slightly. He put up his defenses again, but this time, he felt the powerful presence of the Headmaster pushing back. They struggled like this for quite some time, and although Harry was not aware of it, any outsider would have been able to feel the palpable, raw power emanating from both of them, Headmaster and student. The air crackled with magical energy.  
  
Harry could feel Dumbledore's power increasing as he pushed hard to get past Harry's defenses. Harry's forehead beaded with sweat, but he was determined not to break.  
  
Dumbledore lifted the attack after what seemed like an eternity, and Harry dropped his bag and collapsed into one of the comfortable chairs in front of Dumbledore's desk. Dumbledore, who actually looked a bit tired from the effort, walked slowly behind his desk and sat down, surveying Harry with some surprise.  
  
"Harry, I am quite frankly amazed," Dumbledore said quietly.  
  
"Why?" Harry asked in surprise. "I didn't get you out, did I?"  
  
"You did not have to 'get me out,' Harry, for I never got in. I simply continued trying. I had no access to your thoughts," Dumbledore answered. "Although," he added, his eyes regaining their twinkle, "from what I saw this morning, I am quite sure of what I would have found had I succeeded."  
  
Harry blushed once again. He didn't know what to say.  
  
"Truly remarkable," Dumbledore said quietly, seeming more as though he was speaking to himself, and then he spoke directly to Harry. "I must be honest with you, Harry. Few fully-grown wizards have ever been able to hold me off for that long when I was insistent upon entrance, and certainly never a student."  
  
"If you had kept going, I wouldn't have been able to hold you off," Harry said honestly. "Near the end, it was very hard to keep pushing."  
  
Dumbledore nodded. "This is one of the reasons we will be progressing into Legilimency. It will allow you not only to keep your defenses up, but to go on the offensive as well. A person has no chance of breaking into your mind if you are able to break into his, instead."  
  
Dumbledore noticed that Harry was very sweaty, partly from the exertion he had exhibited as he fought the Headmaster, and partly still from his run before breakfast.  
  
"How about a nice cup of pumpkin juice before we continue?" he asked. "I could use one myself." He waved his wand and a small tray appeared on his desk containing two empty goblets and a large pitcher of pumpkin juice. Dumbledore poured some juice into each goblet and stood to hand one of them to Harry.  
  
As they drank, Dumbledore broached a subject that he needed to talk to Harry about. "Tell me about what happened with Professor Snape, Harry."  
  
Harry was not surprised that the Headmaster knew of the confrontation. He only wondered who, exactly, had told him. It was more than a little bit infuriating that everyone around him seemed insistent upon knowing his every move, but Harry tried hard not to show his annoyance to Dumbledore. He took a gulp of his juice before he answered bluntly, but as calmly as possible, "Snape attacked me, sir."  
  
" _Professor_ Snape, Harry," Dumbledore reminded him. "Please continue."  
  
"I pushed him out within a few seconds," Harry said, but he did not say any more. He did not know if Dumbledore knew the things he had said to Snape after the attack, and if he did not, Harry wasn't going to be the one to tell him.  
  
"And you were angry," Dumbledore prodded, and Harry's heart sank. It appeared that Dumbledore knew the entire story.  
  
"Yeah, I got a little angry," Harry muttered. Thankfully, Dumbledore did not require Harry to elaborate.  
  
"It is quite understandable, Harry, given the relationship between yourself and Professor Snape," Dumbledore remarked. "Having said that, however, you must learn to keep your emotions, especially the negative ones, under tighter control. Voldemort feeds on such emotions as hate and anger, and you will not be able to fight him if those are your weapons.  
  
"I will repeat one more time that I trust Severus Snape, although I do not blame you for your doubts. Severus himself has proven over and over in your case that powerful grudges are difficult to overcome. I do not require you to like Professor Snape, Harry," Dumbledore said, and looked at Harry with just a bit of sternness on his face, "but I do require you to treat him with respect. I know you do not fully understand, but please believe me when I say that he has earned it."  
  
Harry swallowed his objections and nodded, knowing that he could never respect, much less trust, Severus Snape. Once again left without anything to say, he drained the rest of his pumpkin juice and set the goblet down on the edge of Dumbledore's desk, not knowing where else to put it. Another wave of Dumbledore's wand, and the goblet vanished. Harry suspected that it had reappeared in the kitchens along with the other goblet, the pitcher, and the tray, and that at least one house-elf was now busily attending to the clean-up.  
  
"Now," Dumbledore said. "You and I will begin our work on Legilimency this morning. I have also arranged for Kingsley Shacklebolt to work with you on your dueling skills on Friday afternoons, beginning this week. Between the lessons you are receiving from Professor Tonks and the lessons you will receive from Mr. Shacklebolt, I believe you will progress rather quickly."  
  
Harry was slightly taken aback. Kingsley Shacklebolt, one of the highest-ranking Aurors at the Ministry of Magic, was going to teach him dueling? Although Harry knew that these lessons would most likely be extremely difficult, he began immediately to look forward to them.  
  
Dumbledore smiled at the obvious anticipation on the boy's face, but brought him back to the present with the kind inquiry, "Are you ready to begin your Legilimency training, Harry?"  
  
Harry moved his focus back onto the Headmaster, who was gazing at him through his half-moon spectacles. He nodded.  
  
"Excellent," Dumbledore said. "Now, Harry, certain events have led me to believe that you have some natural Legilimency skills, most likely forged of the connection between yourself and Voldemort, although your mother had a decent grasp of the art herself."  
  
Harry bit his lip. He would much rather believe that any skill he had came from his mother, but he knew that it was more likely that it was yet another effect of the transfer of power that had occurred during Voldemort's failed attack on him when he was a baby. _No_! Harry thought vehemently. _I got it from Mum, not from_ him.  
  
Dumbledore easily read the distress on Harry's face and said gently, "Remember, Harry, that it is our choices, not our powers or abilities, which define us. It does not matter from what source this power came. What matters is the use to which you put your skill."  
  
Harry nodded with difficulty and said, "Anytime I've ever managed to get into Voldemort's mind, it has been completely unconscious on my part. I don't know how to do it on purpose."  
  
"That is why we will be practicing, Harry," Dumbledore responded, and began his instruction. "In its most basic form, Legilimency begins in the eyes, and it is at this point that we will be making our beginning. You will be learning to perform your Legilimency wandlessly, as the spell will be much harder to block if you can accomplish it without your wand." He removed his half-moon spectacles and leaned forward.  
  
"Focus on my eyes," he told Harry. "Imagine my pupils as a portal into my mind. The energy you must exert is similar to that you have used when defending yourself using Occlumency, only this time, the push is meant to propel you from my eyes into my thoughts."  
  
Harry nodded, deep in concentration now. It was highly disconcerting to be gazing so intently into the Headmaster's blue eyes.  
  
"I would like to see what you can do at this moment, Harry. I will not be resisting you at this time. We will progress into that later."  
  
Harry nodded and focused his attention onto the inky black pupils amidst the sea of blue. He imagined himself crawling into them as though they were a pipe, and he pushed his mind forward tentatively, afraid of what he would find at the other end. At this point, Dumbledore interrupted him, saying, "Do not be afraid, Harry. Push your fear back and be bold! You will not hurt me."  
  
Harry focused once again, and it only took a few seconds before scenes from Dumbledore's memories flashed before his own eyes.  
  
 _An eleven-year-old Harry nervously approached the stool on which the Sorting Hat sat...a twelve-year-old Harry entered Dumbledore's office victoriously, Ginny Weasley right behind him...a thirteen-year-old Harry proudly clutched the Quidditch Cup in his hands...a fourteen-year-old Harry emerged from the lake, having successfully rescued both Ron and Gabrielle Delacour...a fifteen-year-old Harry taught a roomful of students how to raise a shield charm..._  
  
At this point, Harry felt a slight push back, and he knew it was time for him to go. He released his concentration, and he found himself slightly winded and staring into Dumbledore's face.  
  
"You have now seen yourself through my eyes, Harry, and have made a successful start at your Legilimency training. You have done very well, and I believe we will leave it here for today. We will pick this up in our lesson on Thursday. You have quite a bit of time before lunch, Harry, and I would recommend that you rest. You have exerted more energy today than I would have imagined possible."  
  
Harry nodded, although truthfully, what he wanted more than anything was a hot shower to soothe his aching muscles and relax his spirit. At least with the dormitories deserted, he would be able to take his time.  
  


* * *

  
"How was Hagrid's?" Ginny asked after she and Harry had changed out of their Quidditch robes and were heading back up to the school with the rest of the team.  
  
Harry shook his head. "It was fine," he answered, "but I can't believe he actually used the summer holiday to go back to that mountain to try to find a 'lady friend' for Grawp. He's lucky he wasn't killed."  
  
"Hagrid went back to the giants?" Ron asked disbelievingly. "How thick could he be?"  
  
"You know Hagrid," Harry answered simply, and Ron and Ginny both nodded. They all knew that Hagrid had a knack for finding and adopting the strangest creatures in creation. His half-brother Grawp, a full-blooded giant who now lived in the Forbidden Forest, was no exception, and Harry had hoped that Hagrid would abandon his plan of finding a girlfriend for Grawp. The last thing anyone needed was a whole family of giants taking up residence on the edge of the school grounds.  
  
"Why didn't Hagrid ever tell me about this?" Ron asked. "I've been in class with him, and so has Ginny!"  
  
"He obviously didn't want to be overheard, Ron," Ginny responded in an exasperated voice. "Last I heard, You-Know-Who was still trying to recruit the giants."  
  
"When did you hear that?" Ron asked incredulously.  
  
"Order meeting, late one night at the beginning of the holiday," Ginny answered. "Mum thought we were all asleep by the time it started, so she didn't bother to charm the door or anything. I listened, of course, and they were talking about trying to talk to the giants again."  
  
"Why didn't you bother to tell us about this?" Harry asked, offended. The basic rule between all four of them was that if any of them were lucky enough to get information out of an adult, they shared it with the rest. Harry felt a slight pang of guilt when he thought of the huge secret he, himself, was keeping from his friends, but he reasoned that that was different. After all, that was about him.  
  
"Well, that was the day before you came to stay, wasn't it?" Ginny told him, but didn't say anything else. Harry knew as well as anyone the circumstances that had led to his removal to Grimmauld Place from Privet Drive. Ron seemed satisfied with that explanation, and the three friends continued discussing the dangers of giant breeding in the Forbidden Forest all the way up the stairs and into Gryffindor Tower.  
  


* * *

  
"So, the groundskeeper has a giant," Voldemort said ponderously, his malicious intent evident in his voice. "How fitting."  
  
Armed with the Invisibility Cloak his father had sent him and desperate to prove himself, Draco Malfoy had skipped dinner to follow Harry out to Hagrid's hut that evening. "Yes, My Lord," he answered somewhat proudly. "The giant is called 'Grawp,'" he added with disdain.  
  
"Excellent," Voldemort hissed. "It seems you have your uses after all, young Malfoy. The giants have shown themselves to be amenable to joining my ranks so far." He paused for a moment and then continued, "It is time we added to your mission."  
  


* * *

  
Harry remained in the common room long after the other Gryffindors had gone to bed, ostensibly to work on his homework but really because he desperately needed some time to think. Ever since yesterday morning before Potions, Harry had had a nagging sense of unease about keeping the contents of the prophecy secret from his friends. He had always known that he would eventually have to tell them, but with the idea that Draco Malfoy might already know it, he realized that the time was nearing. Now that the prophecy was no longer secret, Harry supposed that the members of the Order would need to know as well.  
  
There was only one problem with this, though. How could Harry tell his best mates that his life must either include, or end in, murder? How could he tell them that it was his fate, not Dumbledore's, not the Aurors', to attempt the defeat the most evil wizard in the world, the he was the only one who could?


	23. Defense and the D.A.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry begins his training with Kingsley Shacklebolt and the D.A. has its first meeting of the term...and something happens that no one was expecting. Harry's power is growing, and doubts of his ability to defeat Lord Voldemort are beginning to fade.

"Tonks tells me you are more advanced in Defense Against the Dark Arts than her seventh years, Harry," Kingsley Shacklebolt said as he and Harry cleared tables in a large, unused classroom for their first dueling lesson.  
  
Harry was not sure how to respond to that. Defense Against the Dark Arts was easily his best subject at school. He supposed that learning the spells and jinxes necessary to get through the Tri-Wizard Tournament and reading books for the D.A., not to mention the battles he had gone through, had helped him with his defense skills. He had not learned any of that, however, in an effort to do better in his classes.  
  
Kingsley chuckled. "No need to be modest, Harry. I know what you are capable of." As he pushed the last table against the stone wall, his expression grew serious. "Advanced as your skills may be, however, my duty is to teach you the art of dueling as it is taught in Auror training. There are certain aspects of battle that cannot be taught in school."  
  
Harry nodded solemnly. He knew from experience that a real duel with a Death Eater did not end with the disarming or stunning of your opponent; it ended only with capture or death.  
  
"All right, Harry," Kingsley said calmly, rolling up the sleeves of his robes. "Before we proceed with anything else, I would like to see what you can do already."  
  
Harry followed suit, rolling up his own sleeves and holding his wand in the ready position. Before he had even thought to throw his own spell, Kingsley cried, " _Expelliarmus_!"  
  
Even though Harry had not cast a spell yet, he was at the ready, and he shouted, " _Protego_!" just in time. He felt the spell bounce off of his magical shield and back towards Kingsley, who jumped to the side, dodging it.  
  
" _Impedimenta_!" Harry cast the next spell towards Kingsley, hoping to go on the offensive while Kingsley was dodging his own disarming spell.  
  
" _Protego_!" This time it was Kingsley who cast the shield charm and Harry had to drop into a roll to avoid the rebound of his own spell.  
  
" _Stupefy_!" The spell caught Harry mid-roll, and Harry lay still, stunned. It had taken only a few seconds for Kingsley to defeat him. The Auror woke Harry immediately, and the two walked to one corner of the classroom, where Kingsley had left two chairs and a small table standing.  
  
"What went wrong, Harry?" Kingsley asked seriously when they had been seated.  
  
"I wasn't fast enough," Harry answered.  
  
"Not exactly," Kingsley replied. "Your reflexes are very good, as I expected, and you dodged the rebound of your Impediment Jinx very well. Can you think of anything else?"  
  
Harry thought for a moment. He had simply assumed that he had not been fast enough on his feet, but as this wasn't the case, he answered, "I wasn't ready for you to cast another spell."  
  
"Precisely," Kingsley told him seriously. "Being able to physically dodge a spell is very important, but it does not do you much good if you are caught immediately afterward by another. How do you suppose this problem can be fixed?"  
  
"It's hard to dodge again when you come out of a roll," Harry pondered.  
  
"Yes, it is," Kingsley answered. "Go on."  
  
"I should have immediately cast another spell back at you as I came out of the roll, or else been ready to raise my own shield."  
  
"That's correct, Harry. You must always be at least one step ahead of your opponent - you must always be ready to counter their next move, or else to make your own. True dueling, as you have seen, happens so quickly that there is little time to think, only to act."  
  
Harry nodded. He felt incredibly stupid having been beaten so quickly, even if Kingsley was an Auror. Noticing the expression on his student's face, Shacklebolt added, "That is why we are beginning with the very basics of dueling, Harry, using only the spells that you already know. After we have used your existing skills to increase your speed and accuracy, we will progress into more advanced techniques."  
  
Harry nodded, wondering what the advanced techniques would consist of. If Kingsley had noticed the question in his student's eyes, however, he did not respond. Instead, he stood up, and Harry followed suit. "Are you ready to continue?" the Auror asked.  
  
"Yes, sir," Harry responded respectfully. He raised his wand to the ready position, but Kingsley put up one hand to stop him.  
  
"This time, Harry, I would like you to stow your wand in your pocket. I want to practice dodging today, and you will progress more quickly if you are not tempted to block me with spells."  
  
Harry was rather taken aback at this instruction. Instead of stowing his wand as he had been instructed, however, he crossed the room, placing his wand on a table for safekeeping. He did not want it to break during his attempts at dodging.  
  
For the next hour, Kingsley shot minor jinxes at Harry, who used his Quidditch reflexes to dodge as many spells in succession as he could. Each time the Auror managed to hit him, they rested for a moment and discussed Harry's technique. Shacklebolt did not miss a single flaw, but far from feeling picked upon like he did in Snape's class, Harry was impressed and appreciative of the attention to detail.  
  
Over the course of the lesson, Kingsley introduced Harry to more than a few specific dodging techniques, including a calculated roll that allowed the dueler to regain footing almost immediately, a spin that he said could eventually be used as a feint and several simpler, quicker dodges as well. By the time it was over, Harry was incredibly sore, but had been able to dodge seven spells fired in quick succession in their final round.  
  
"I would like you to practice what you have learned each night this week. It would be a good time for your friends to practice their jinxes."  
  
Harry stared at him. "You want Ron and Hermione to throw jinxes at me every night?"  
  
"Indeed, Harry," Shacklebolt answered. "It will be as good for them as it is for you. I believe you found a room within the castle that would be quite suitable for practice, did you not?"  
  
"Er, yeah," Harry responded uncertainly. The Room of Requirement would work well for this purpose, but he was starting to feel more than a bit overwhelmed with all he had to do this term. Between his homework, Tonks's physical training requirements, the D.A., Quidditch practice, and now this, his time was increasingly spoken for.  
  
Shacklebolt gazed at him seriously. "I know that much is being asked of you this year, Harry," he said. "But as you seem to find yourself in increasingly difficult situations more often than even most Aurors, it is important that you be prepared."  
  
Harry nodded. He knew exactly what he was being prepared for, even if his trainers did not. For the thousandth time, he felt that nagging feeling of unease as he considered telling his friends and the Order about the prophecy.  
  


* * *

  
That night, while Ginny and Colin were on Prefect duty and Ron and Hermione went for a walk, Harry wrote a letter to Remus. He badly needed some advice.  
  


> _Dear Moony,_
> 
> _This week has been much better than last. Classes are OK, but we have loads of homework, and Ron's making us practice twice a week for our first Quidditch match against Slytherin in the middle of October. Tonks is on us, too, making us run every day as physical training for dueling.  
> _

  
Harry stopped and thought for a moment. The first part of this letter had been easy - it was the sort of note that any student would write to a parent. The next part would be trickier. How could he ask Moony about revealing the prophecy without letting any possible letter-thieves know what he was talking about? Harry sucked on the end of his quill, thinking hard. Finally, he took the damp quill out of his mouth, dipped it into his ink bottle, and continued.  
  


> _I worked with Kingsley for the first time this morning. He taught me some cool dodging stuff. They look a little like something I saw on a ninja show on Dudley's telly once. I've been thinking it might be time to tell my friends about my secret. What do you reckon?_
> 
> _Hope you're doing okay. Say hi to the Weasleys for me._
> 
> _Harry  
> _

  
Harry heard Ginny and Colin coming through the portrait hole just as he was finishing up. He hastily folded his letter and stuck it into a spell book as she headed for him.  
  
"What are you working on?" she asked, leaning over to hug him from behind and kiss him on the cheek, her red hair tickling his face.  
  
"I was just writing a letter to Moony," Harry answered quietly. "I haven't written him yet this term. Then I was going to start on McGonagall's essay..." he trailed off. He really didn't feel like doing homework right now.  
  
"Harry, it's Friday. We don't have lessons again until Monday. Why don't you take a break and have some chess?"  
  
"Or Gobstones!" said Colin Creevey from behind Ginny. "I got a new set over the holiday. I'll get Dennis, and we could play teams!"  
  
"Er," Harry said, and Ginny felt his shoulder muscles tense slightly. He found it extremely annoying that Colin had been listening to their conversation, and he would much rather just quietly play chess with his girlfriend than spend so much time with the Creevey brothers, both of whom were still prone to staring at Harry's scar.  
  
Before Harry could find the right words to refuse without offending Colin, Ginny said brightly, "We'd love to, Colin. Go get Dennis, and we'll meet you over at that table by the window."  
  
After Colin had gone to find his brother, Harry stood and turned to Ginny. "What'd you go and do that for?" he asked irritably.  
  
Ginny completely ignored the look of annoyance on Harry's face. She knew that Colin's open admiration irritated him, but she thought that a loud, obnoxious game of Gobstones with two people who were not constantly discussing the war might be just the thing to loosen Harry up. "Colin and Dennis aren't bad, Harry," she said calmly. "Besides, they're my friends. If you don't want to play, fine, but I'm going to."  
  
Harry sighed. He supposed playing Gobstones was better than doing homework at any rate, and he did want to spend some time with Ginny.  
  
"All right, Harry?" Dennis asked excitedly as he joined his brother, who was armed with a set of brightly colored balls which looked rather like Muggle marbles. Dennis simply couldn't believe that he was about to play Gobstones with Harry Potter, leader of the D.A. and defeater of Lord Voldemort. The fact that he had seen Harry nearly every day for over two years had done little to curb his enthusiasm.  
  
"Hi, Dennis!" Ginny said brightly, elbowing Harry when he didn't respond.  
  
"Hi," Harry said.  
  
The four Gryffindors soon became involved in an extremely competitive game, Ginny and Harry versus the Creevey brothers. Harry had just been squirted in the face by one of Colin's stones when Hermione tapped him on the shoulder. He turned to face her, grinning and wiping the smelly liquid from his eyes. The childish game had served its purpose, and Harry had forgotten his worries and was having a good time.  
  
"Honestly, Harry," Hermione said, rolling her eyes even as she failed to suppress a smile.  
  
"What is it, Hermione?" Harry asked.  
  
Hermione glanced at the others, but since Colin and Dennis were both D.A. members she didn't see much point in pulling Harry aside. "Ron and I were talking, and we were wondering if you'd given any thought about when we should have the first D.A. meeting."  
  
"We were wondering about that, too!" Colin piped up. "We keep checking our Galleons to see if you've changed the date yet." He pulled the fake Galleon Hermione had given him last year out of his pocket and held it up as evidence. "But you haven't, have you, Harry?"  
  
"Not yet," Harry said. "Let me go talk to Ron and Hermione about it, okay? I promise I'll schedule a meeting soon."  
  
The Creevey brothers nodded excitedly and continued playing Gobstones one-on-one as Ginny and Harry headed over to their favorite spot by the fire, where Ron was waiting. Harry noticed that Ron's face was flushed and his hair looked distinctly disheveled. Harry grinned. "Have a nice 'walk,' mate?" he asked teasingly.  
  
Ron didn't answer, but the glowing red of his ears gave him away. Hermione saw his embarrassment and, blushing slightly and trying to straighten her own hair, said quickly, "So, Harry, what do you think about the D.A. meetings?"  
  
Harry thought for a moment. Now that they were two weeks into term, he reckoned that it was time to get started. "I dunno," he said slowly. "I suppose our meetings could be a bit more regular, now that they don't have to be secret. We still have everyone's Quidditch practices to work around, though."  
  
"Ron can talk to the other Captains," Hermione asked in a businesslike voice.  
  
"Won't have to," Ron said, and Harry looked at him in surprise. "Slytherin booked the Quidditch pitch for themselves every Wednesday from now until Christmas, from six until curfew, so no one else can practice that day." Ron sounded slightly bitter, which struck Harry as ironic. It wasn't as though Ron wasn't finding plenty of time to make his team practice already.  
  
"That's perfect!" Hermione said cheerfully. "No one on the Slytherin team is in the D.A., so if we have meetings then, we won't have to worry about anyone's practices."  
  
Harry nodded, but said, "I'll have to talk to Professor Dumbledore about it before we make any definite plans. I've got Leg - , er, Occlumency training with him on Tuesday. I can ask then."  
  
Ginny looked sharply at Harry, certain that he had almost let something slip. She opened her mouth to ask him about it, but something she saw in his eyes warned her not to. Was it a flicker of fear, or self-doubt, or was it something else entirely? Ginny made a mental note to ask him about it later.  
  
"How did your lesson with Kingsley go this afternoon?" Hermione asked. She, too, had noticed Harry's slip, but she had also decided to let it go at present. "I forgot to ask at dinner because I was so busy trying to stop those second years from starting a food fight."  
  
Harry described what Kingsley had taught him that afternoon.  
  
"He shot spells at you and didn't even let you use your wand?" Ginny asked incredulously. "That's not fair!"  
  
"Obviously, Kingsley wants Harry to start with the basics," Hermione said. "Your wand isn't going to do you much good if you get hit by a spell, is it?"  
  
"But he could still use it to defend himself!" Ron said indignantly. "What's Kingsley on about?"  
  
"That's not all of it," Harry said. "He wants me to practice the same thing with you three every night this week, in the Room of Requirement."  
  
"He wants us to throw curses at you when you don't even have your wand?" Hermione asked, sounding doubtful. It was one thing that Kingsley was doing it, but what if one of them accidentally hurt Harry?  
  
"Only stuff you know the counter-jinxes for," Harry clarified.  
  
"Still..." Hermione said uncertainly.  
  
Ron suddenly turned a piercing gaze on Harry as a thought occurred to him. "Why are you getting special dueling classes anyway, Harry? I mean, we know you've done loads of dangerous stuff, but we've been with you most of the time. Why's it just you?"  
  
The conversation stopped abruptly as all three of them looked at Harry for an answer. He shifted very uncomfortably in his seat, and then muttered, "I'm tired. I think I'll turn in." He didn't look at any of them directly as he packed his books, quill, and parchment into his bag. He gave Ginny a quick kiss on her forehead and headed to the stairs without another word.  
  
"Do you two have the feeling that he's hiding something?" Ron asked as he watched Harry go upstairs toward their dormitory. Ginny threw her brother an exasperated look. He certainly had a talent for stating the obvious.  
  
"Whatever it is, we'll find out soon," Hermione said confidently.  
  
"How do you know, Hermione?" Ginny asked.  
  
"Because he can't keep it bottled up much longer," Hermione said simply. "Didn't you see his face? Whatever this is, it's about to drive him mad."  
  
Ginny sighed softly. She felt like she had gotten so much closer to Harry over the summer, but she couldn't help but envy how easily her brother and Hermione seemed be able to read him.  
  
"What's the matter, Ginny?" Hermione asked.  
  
Ginny sighed again. "I just wish I could learn to understand him like you two do."  
  
Ron nodded wisely. After all, Ginny hadn't been hanging around Harry for as long as he and Hermione had. Hermione, however, did not seem convinced that Ginny was as far behind in the art of Harry-reading as she thought.  
  


* * *

  
Remus Lupin smiled as Hedwig soared through his open window. He'd been hoping to hear from Harry sometime soon. He'd gotten so used to talking to him every day over the summer, and now he found that he missed Harry more than ever.  
  
His smile didn't fade as he read Harry's note, although he knew that they would have to find a better way to communicate. Harry was obviously trying to be cryptic, and it made the letter very short and uninformative. Remus had a couple of ideas about that, but until he could actually see Harry in person, owl post would have to do.  
  
He was glad that Harry was ready to tell his friends about the prophecy. Remus and Dumbledore had talked several times about telling the Order the full contents of it, but they both were hesitant, not wanting to betray Harry's trust. Now, of all times, Harry had to be comfortable being completely honest with them.  
  
Remus got out a piece of parchment and thought about what to say in his return post. He wondered whether Harry would like it if he was with him when he told his friends, and he also wondered if Harry wanted to tell the Order on his own, or if he would give Dumbledore permission to do so. He dipped his quill into a bottle of black ink and replied,  
  


> _Harry,_
> 
> _Thank you for your note. I had been hoping to hear from you. I'm glad that your second week of term has gone well, although I know you must be feeling very overwhelmed right now with all that is being required of you. Stay strong, Harry - you can do this!_
> 
> _Professor Dumbledore told me that the first Hogsmeade excursion will be the on the third weekend in October - one week after your first Quidditch match. I think this might be a good time to talk to your friends, and I believe I know just the place for it. Remember where you first met Snuffles?_
> 
> _Would you like me to be there with you when you talk to them? It is your decision, Harry, but I am willing and happy to do so if you would like me to. Just let me know._
> 
> _Everyone at Headquarters is fine, although the house seems unbearably quiet without you lot pounding up and down the stairs all day._
> 
> _I will see you soon._
> 
> _Moony  
> _

  
Remus smiled at his final comment. Harry did not know it, but he was planning on surprising him by coming to his first Quidditch match of the season. It was a full week after the full moon so making the trip would not be a problem, and he looked forward to seeing him again.  
  


* * *

  
Even though Dumbledore had officially approved Harry's plan to continue with the D.A. during this school year, they had decided that the Room of Requirement was still the best place to hold the meetings, mainly because Harry did not have the resources of a teacher and the room was so generous in providing everything they needed.  
  
Upon the Headmaster's approval, Harry had set the date on his Galleon for the following Wednesday, and even though he had been reluctant to continue, he could not help but grin nervously as every single member from last year, with the exception of Marietta Edgecombe, who was too embarrassed to show up, filed through the door of the Room of Requirement and sat down on the cushions on the floor, looking at him expectantly. Harry saw some new faces as well.  
  
"Er, hi," Harry began, clearing his throat. He had gotten over his nervousness at leading such a large group the previous year, but after the holidays, he found that he was quite out of practice. "I'm glad you all came back, and to those of you who are here for the first time, welcome," he said. "As you probably know already, we don't have to keep all of this a secret anymore, so from here on out, the meetings will be on Wednesdays at seven."  
  
There was a general murmur of assent throughout the room.  
  
"This year will be a bit different from last year in some other ways, too," Harry continued. "Since we finally have a decent Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher - "  
  
"Hear, hear!" interrupted Ernie Macmillan rather pompously, and many of the students in the room chuckled.  
  
Harry grinned and waited for the murmurs to die down again. "As I was saying," he continued, his voice considerably stronger, "Since we have Professor Tonks now, the D.A. is going to be much more dueling-oriented this year. I've talked to Professor Dumbledore about this, and we both think that the best use of the D.A.'s time would be to put the things we are learning in Defense to practical use."  
  
"We're just going to be going over the stuff we do in Defense Against the Dark Arts?" Zacharias Smith broke in. "That's it?"  
  
"Yes, that's it, but that's a lot," Harry said, throwing Ron, whose ears had begun to turn red, a warning look. "We're not only going to be practicing the new offensive and defensive spells we'll learn with Professor Tonks, we are going to be working on physical tactics of dueling as well. As some of you may already know, in a real duel, you are not going to be standing still, shooting spells at one another in turn. You've got to be able to think on your feet, to stay a step ahead of your opponent. That is what we will be working on this year, in addition to some other things. Any questions?"  
  
Some of the Ravenclaw members looked at each other uncomfortably, as if silently trying to decide who was going to raise their hand. Finally, Cho Chang tentatively put her hand in the air. When Harry nodded at her, and asked, "What happened at the Ministry of Magic, Harry?"  
  
Harry sighed and exchanged a glance with Ron and Hermione. He had known this was going to come up. "Look, that's not really the point of the meeting," Harry began, willing himself to speak in a calm voice. The battle at the Department of Mysteries was still a very hard topic for him to discuss.  
  
Ginny saw the struggle plainly on his face even if it was imperceptible to everyone else but Ron and Hermione, and she stood up. "If you want to know anything about that, you can ask me, Hermione, Ron, Neville, or Luna. We were all there, too. For now, let Harry teach. That is why we're here, isn't it?" Neville looked positively alarmed at having his name mentioned to the entire D.A., but Luna didn't appear to be following the conversation at all. She was staring absentmindedly somewhere over Harry's head.  
  
Harry shot a grateful look at his girlfriend as most of the members of the D.A. nodded. Even though they were disappointed in Harry's answer, they had not actually expected to get any information out of him. Harry took a deep breath. "Right," he said. "We're going to spend the rest of this hour working on your Protego shield charms. Yes, I know that the sixth and seventh years have already worked on those in Defense Against the Dark Arts," he added, because Zacharias looked ready to interrupt again, "Because of that, we're going to divide into groups of three rather than two. After a short demonstration of the spell, I want one older student paired with two younger ones. The older student will practice his or her shield against both of the younger students, and then will give help as the younger students practice against only each other. Does everyone understand?"  
  
Harry stepped back into a clear space, and Ron and Hermione advanced on him, wands at the ready. The room waited with baited breath.  
  
Just as Hermione cast her first spell, Harry cried, " _Protego_!" and moved his wand in a broad, sweeping motion diagonally across his body, concentrating hard on creating a strong shield against Hermione's charm. There was a unified "ooh" as a translucent gold buffer materialized between Harry and his friends. Hermione's jelly-legs jinx bounced harmlessly off of it, but Ron was so busy gaping at the physical manifestation of Harry's shield charm that he didn't think to dodge the rebound of the jinx. Ron's legs folded underneath him, no longer able to support his weight, and he sank to the floor, his ears going pink with embarrassment even as he continued to stare at Harry.  
  
"Right," Harry said to the room at large as Hermione hurried over to work the counter-curse on Ron. "As you just saw, if done correctly, the shield charm works both as a defensive and as an offensive tactic. Go ahead and divide up; like I did last year, I'll be walking around the room to help if you need it." Harry tried to keep his face neutral, as if what had happened with his shield charm was completely normal.  
  
The room soon became filled with shouts as the students got into groups and began shooting spells at one another, and as soon as they saw that the other D.A. members were occupied, Hermione and Ron came straight to Harry.  
  
"Harry, how did you do that, mate?" Ron asked in an awed voice. "I can do the spell, but my shield is invisible. So is Hermione's."  
  
Harry shrugged. He didn't know why his shield had become visible or what it meant.  
  
"Harry, your shield is obviously getting more powerful," Hermione said. "Just the other day, I read something about the Protego Charm that said that as the spell grows stronger, the shield can become visible, even become completely solid, but I've never seen anyone do it before."  
  
"I don't know," Harry said. "I practiced on it a bit with Kingsley in our second lesson before he made me put my wand away again. He showed me some ways to concentrate the power of the spell, but it wasn't visible then."  
  
Ron and Hermione didn't reply, but continued to stare at Harry, their faces wearing identical impressed expressions. Harry looked away from them, out at the other students, and said, "I'll talk to Professor Dumbledore about it, but for right now I'm going to go work with some of the others. Can you two help some of the younger students?" Ron and Hermione nodded.  
  
Harry began walking between the groups of students, staying clear of rebounding spells and working counter-charms on the students whose shields had been unsuccessful. The sixth and seventh years who were in N.E.W.T. Defense Against the Dark Arts were all doing rather well, but Harry stopped to help many of the fourth- and fifth-years with theirs. Ginny was practicing with Colin and Neville, and Harry was impressed by Ginny's shield, but even more so by Neville's new abilities. It seemed as though his new wand was really helping, if for no other reason than it seemed to give him more confidence in his ability. The rest of the hour passed by quickly; at eight, he dismissed the D.A., finding it rather nice that he no longer had to worry about anyone getting caught.  
  


* * *

  
And so September passed into October, and Harry fell into bed each night completely exhausted. This year, he was very diligent about practicing his Occlumency before sleep, and between that and his physical exertion, he had very few dreams, and the ones he did have, he rarely remembered.  
  
Almost every moment of every day was now accounted for. Tonks had increased their daily runs to thirty minutes, and Kingsley still required that Ron, Hermione, and Ginny practice with Harry every night. As a result, Harry's dodging skills were improving rapidly, and in their lesson the day before the first Quidditch match, Kingsley had finally let Harry use his wand in their practice and was beginning to show him how to combine his new physical skill with his spellwork.  
  
All-in-all, although he himself didn't realize it, Harry's friends and teachers could see his power growing daily, and they were at once impressed with and frightened by the determination that was so evident on his face as they practiced. Dumbledore had been correct. Harry was a child no more.


	24. Truth and Consequences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What will Harry's friends think when he finally reveals the reason for Voldemort's obsession with him, and for his extra training?

The morning of the Gryffindor versus Slytherin Quidditch match dawned cloudy and damp. The sky was pregnant with expected rain, but so far none had fallen. Ron was as nervous as Harry had ever seen him. At breakfast, he hardly at a bite and he kept glancing up at the enchanted ceiling of the Great Hall, hoping against hope that the rain would hold off until after the match.  
  
"Cheer up, mate," Harry said bracingly. "The team has been looking really good the last couple of weeks. If everyone's on form, we shouldn't have a problem."  
  
Ron didn't reply, just poked worriedly at his cereal. When he called down the table for the team to head to the pitch, everyone noticed that his voice sounded a lot less confident than it had since he had been made Captain.  
  
"Do you think he'll be all right?" Ginny asked Harry as they headed down to the pitch, their brooms on their shoulders.  
  
"He'll be fine once he gets in the air," Harry said confidently. "He's just nervous because this is his first game as Captain."  
  
Ginny nodded, hoping he was right, as they headed into the locker rooms to change.  
  
Once his team had changed into their scarlet Quidditch robes, Ron stood in front of them and cleared his throat. Harry and Ginny were both relieved to see that Ron's posture exuded the confidence they had grown accustomed to - apparently, Ron's team robes with the gold Captain's badge pinned proudly on his chest had done much to quell his nervousness.  
  
"All right, team, the ground is a bit damp, so take that into account as you kick off. It's cloudy, so we won't have to worry about glare, but the Snitch might be hard to see, Harry," he said in his most businesslike voice. "Chasers," he continued, looking at Katie, Ginny, and Meg, "Slytherin plays dirty, so keep your eyes open and a tight hold on the Quaffle. Before you make a pass, be certain that it cannot be intercepted." Katie and Ginny nodded, but Meg looked very nervous. Harry hoped she would fly well once the game began.  
  
"Beaters, play fiercely but fairly. I can guarantee that Crabbe and Goyle won't, and any penalty shots we're awarded will only strengthen our position." Kirke and Sloper nodded, and Harry was glad they had improved since the previous year.  
  
"All right, team, let's go out and start the season with a big win!" Ron said. They all shouldered their brooms and filed onto the pitch.  
  
As the game began and Harry soared far above it, his eyes peeled for the Snitch, he saw that Slytherin was playing as dirtily as ever. Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle, the Slytherin beaters, were swinging their clubs wildly, seeming not to care whether they hit a Bludger, the Quaffle, or the head of a Gryffindor player. Harry surged with anger as Goyle took a direct shot at Meg, but he was proud of the Sloth Grip Roll she employed to avoid the club while still holding onto the red Quaffle. She certainly seemed to have gotten over her case of nerves as they began play.  
  
"Meg Jackson, the youngest member of the Gryffindor team, soars up the pitch after avoiding a nasty swing by Gregory Goyle of Slytherin. Weasley and Bell are flanking her in close formation as she heads for the Slytherin goalposts, she shoots, she scores the first goal of the game! Ten points to Gryffindor! We should keep our eyes on this girl!" Justin Finch-Fletchley, the new Quidditch commentator, kept up with the game easily, although his commentary was noticeably devoid of the colorful comments that had been Lee Jordan's trademark.  
  
Harry continued to search for the Snitch as the commentary told him that Slytherin's Chasers had taken possession of the Quaffle and scored once on Ron, but missed twice afterwards. At each miss, the Gryffindor stands, a sea of scarlet and gold, broke into a chorus of "Weasley is Our King," which caused Harry to grin and flash a thumbs-up at Ron.  
  
"And, what's this?" Justin's voice sounded over the roars of the crowd. "Slytherin's Seeker has taken a Beater bat from Vincent Crabbe, and is flying straight for Gryffindor Chaser Ginny Weasley. Dodge him, Ginny!"  
  
Malfoy had apparently decided that Crabbe was being too slow, and had taken the Beater's bat from him and was streaking straight towards Ginny, who was speeding for the Slytherin goal posts, the Quaffle held tightly in her hands. The Slytherin Keeper was distracted by Malfoy's tactics, and Ginny scored easily. As she turned to join the other Chasers, Malfoy swung the bat fiercely, and there was a gasp from the crowd as everyone heard the crack of wood on Ginny's face.  
  
Harry, who had been trying to take advantage of Malfoy's distraction and was certain that Ginny could hold her own, turned his broom sharply and sped towards her, pushing his Firebolt to the considerable limits of its speed. He didn't even hear Madam Hooch's angry shouting as she awarded not one, but two penalty shots to Gryffindor for the unprovoked attack on their Chaser and ordered Malfoy to give the Beater's bat back to Crabbe and play in his normal position. He got to Ginny before anyone else, and he pulled his broom up beside hers.  
  
"I'm fine, Harry," Ginny said angrily, glaring at Malfoy, who was now circling the pitch, trying to find the Snitch while Harry checked on his teammate. "Go back to the game! I dodged just in time, he only barely got me! Don't you dare let him get the Snitch! He only did this because he knew you would come to check on me! Go back to the game!" The entire left side of her face was swollen, and he knew that Malfoy had likely broken her cheekbone. Seeing her angry glare, however, and knowing that she was still well enough to play, Harry returned to the game, nodding grimly at Ron, who returned to the Gryffindor goalposts.  
  
Harry knew that Ginny was all right when she scored the two penalty shots easily, bringing the score to forty-ten in Gryffindor's favor. Harry began marking Malfoy closely. He was determined to make him pay.  
  
"Slytherin Chasers head up the pitch, they shoot and they score on Captain Ron Weasley. Ten points to Slytherin!" The Gryffindor crowd groaned, and the Slytherins screamed wildly for their team.  
  
"Too bad about your little girlfriend, Potty," Malfoy yelled. "Think she'll have a scar? That would be sweet, wouldn't it? Potty and the little Weasel _girlfriend_ with ugly scars on their faces!"  
  
Harry knew Malfoy was trying to bait him into losing his temper. His grip on the handle of his Firebolt was so tight that his knuckles were white, but he did not reply to Malfoy's taunts. Harry knew Madam Pomfrey would heal Ginny in a second after the game was over, and he was not going to let this blonde git get to him now.  
  
Below the two Seekers, the game grew increasingly nasty. Beaters were relentless with their bats, and the Chasers flew at each other with such ferocity that Harry thought it was a miracle that anyone was able to score. Somehow, however, both sides managed it, and almost an hour into the game the score was 140-100 in Gryffindor's favor, and Harry had not yet found the Snitch.  
  
Between Kingsley's dueling lessons, Tonks's physical training requirements, and the fact that Ron had required his team to practice at least twice a week since the beginning of term, Harry was in the best physical shape of his life, and his flying was evidence to that. Never had he been able to push the Firebolt as far as he was today as he tried to unnerve Malfoy, and never had he been in tighter control.  
  
Malfoy hooted with glee from right behind Harry as a Bludger collided painfully with Katie Bell's shoulder, causing her to drop the Quaffle, and it was then that Harry made the decision to attempt something he had only yet tried in practice. Faking a look of sudden concentration, Harry pushed his broom into an almost completely vertical dive, and he sped towards the ground with a speed so alarming that it caused the entire crowd to gasp. Knowing that Malfoy was following him on his Nimbus 2001, Harry slowed just enough to allow his opponent to close the distance between them as they plummeted toward the ground.  
  
"Gryffindor Seeker Harry Potter is putting his broom through its paces as he speeds towards the ground, Draco Malfoy close on his tail!" Justin exclaimed, and the whole crowd looked towards the ground, expecting to see the Snitch.  
  
Harry was only inches away from the grass when he suddenly pulled out of his dive, putting every bit of his strength into bringing his Firebolt into a horizontal position. As his toes skimmed the ground, he heard, to his immense satisfaction, a sickening crunch as Malfoy crashed into the pitch at nearly full speed.  
  
"Potter's done a Wronski Feint!" Justin yelled into his magical megaphone. "I can't believe it! The Wronski Feint, one of the most dangerous Seeker diversions in the game of Quidditch, is usually only seen in the professional leagues! Watch out for Potter, ladies and gentlemen, the leagues will surely be vying for him when he's out of school! A time-out is called as Madam Pomfrey and Madam Hooch rush onto the field to tend to Draco Malfoy."  
  
The Gryffindor team flew into a huddle at the end of the pitch as the Hogwarts nurse revived Malfoy, but Harry did not join them. He and Ron had agreed that the best use of Harry's time during any breaks in play would be to continue looking for the Snitch, and Harry was not concerned for Malfoy in the least. The prat had it coming to him after what he had done to Ginny. The only difference between the two was that Harry's move had been completely legal.  
  
Rain began to fall as Madam Pomfrey continued to work over Malfoy, mending his broken bones and administering potions right on the pitch. As Harry flew above everyone else, his eyes peeled for the small golden Snitch, he suddenly wobbled on his broom as he detected a powerful push on his mind, a push that could only mean that Voldemort and Malfoy were again trying to attack him. Of course, the senior Malfoy would have known Harry would be playing Quidditch this morning, and they probably hoped that the force of the attack would cause Harry to fall off of his broom.  
  
Harry stopped completely as he focused all of his energy on keeping the intruders out. "Not now," he thought as he struggled violently, and with a final shove, his mind cleared.  
  
It was, perhaps, a very lucky coincidence that the storm broke in earnest at that very moment, for when Harry focused all of his power on expelling Voldemort and Malfoy from his mind, a strong gust of wind blew out from him and through the stadium, blowing hats and umbrellas out of the stands and onto the pitch. No one, however, seemed to suspect the true origin of the gust as the rain began to pour.  
  
No one, that is, except the two people in the stands who were always watching more carefully than he ever knew, the two people who had kept their attention on him and not on Draco Malfoy. Remus Lupin and Albus Dumbledore had looked at each other worriedly when they had seen Harry stop, sure that they knew what was happening. Dumbledore's wand was already out, ready to slow Harry's inevitable fall, but the fall never came. Instead, Harry's face screwed up in concentration, and they could both see him fighting to keep his Occlumency shield up. The wind gusted through the stadium just as Harry's expression cleared, and the two men who had been watching looked at each other in amazement. This was certainly a new development, and one which would have to be carefully monitored and built upon in future.  
  
For his part, Harry had no idea that he had caused the violent surge of wind that shook the very stands in the stadium. All he felt was his victory. Although he had pushed Voldemort and Malfoy out of his mind once before, the night Mrs. Figg had been killed, he had not been able to do it immediately, as he had today. The amount of magical force he had been required to use had exceeded even that of what he had used to keep Dumbledore out, and Harry felt certain that Voldemort had not lifted the attack voluntarily.  
  
The game resumed as Draco Malfoy remounted his broom to the tumultuous cheers from the Slytherin stands, and Harry cast an Impervious charm on his glasses so he could see the Snitch. He and the rest of the players were growing cold and wet, and as the game below grew, if it were possible, even nastier, Harry knew he needed to catch the Snitch soon.  
  
The score was 210-140 in Gryffindor's favor when Harry caught the faintest glint of gold hovering above the stand in which the staff members were sitting. It was, perhaps, a good thing that Malfoy was still more than a little dazed by his violent appointment with the earth, since he was actually a lot closer to the Snitch than Harry was.  
  
Malfoy bucked a bit on his broom as Harry sped past him, and he caught sight of the Snitch as he looked to see if Harry was feinting again. He quickly gave chase when he saw the glint of gold, but his Nimbus was no match for Harry's Firebolt, and the Gryffindor stands erupted in cheers and applause as Harry Potter caught the Snitch.  
  
"And it's a Gryffindor win with a final score of 360 to 140!" Justin proclaimed, though his voice could barely be heard over the screams of the spectators.  
  
Harry held the Snitch over his head as he flew to center pitch to join his teammates. As they sank to the ground everyone wore the biggest grins Harry had ever seen, even Ginny, whose cheek was swollen almost beyond recognition.  
  
"Fan-bloody-tastic game, Harry!" Ron said exuberantly as the crowd began to surround them on the pitch.  
  
"Everyone played really well," Harry replied, and it was true. Kirke and Sloper, while they still couldn't rival the Weasley twins, had held their own. Meg, Ginny, and Katie had worked together as though they had been for years, and Ron's goalkeeping abilities were becoming excellent.  
  
Harry was knocked aside as Hermione threw herself onto Ron, hugging him fiercely, and as Harry turned to make sure that Ginny went to see Madam Pomfrey straightaway, he heard a booming voice that he would recognize anywhere.  
  
"Harry!" Hagrid cried as the crowds of students parted a bit to let the huge man pass. "Yeh did it! Knew yeh would! Gryffindor fer the cup again!" He clapped Harry on the shoulder, and Harry only barely remained able to stay on his feet.  
  
Those that could hear Hagrid, and most of them could, burst into renewed cheering. Just as Harry had finally managed to connect Madam Pomfrey with Ginny, he felt a soft tap on his shoulder and turned to look straight into the face of his guardian.  
  
"Moony!" Harry cried. "I didn't know you were going to be here!"  
  
Remus smiled. "I thought I would surprise you. You played exceedingly well, Harry. Your father would have been quite pleased."  
  
Harry grinned. He liked to think that his father would have enjoyed this game as much as he had. He was flying as high as he had in a long time - between his first successful Wronski Feint, his success at denying Voldemort and Malfoy entrance to his mind, and Gryffindor's win, even the rain that continued to pour did nothing to bring him down.  
  
"Harry!" Ginny called through the noise of the rain and the chattering students who seemed not to notice it. He turned and saw that she was still smiling, but looked a bit disgruntled all the same.  
  
"What is it, Ginny? Are you okay?" Harry asked.  
  
"I'm fine," Ginny said impatiently. "It's only Madam Pomfrey says I have to go to the hospital wing with her for now. I'll be back in the common room later for the celebration, though."  
  
"Want me to come with you?" Harry inquired with some concern.  
  
"No, no," Ginny waved her hand dismissively. "It's just a bruise. I'll be fine. Besides," she lowered her voice to a whisper, "I think Remus probably wants to spend some time with you."  
  
Harry nodded. He wanted to spend time with Moony as well. He said as much to Ron and Hermione, and after he had changed out of his team robes, he met Remus and they headed back up to the castle, keeping relatively dry under the umbrella that his guardian had conjured after losing his first one.  
  
"I know I already said so, but you really played excellently this morning," Moony told him proudly as they walked alone through the grand front entrance to the castle. They had made their way from the Quidditch pitch slowly, and the other students were quite far ahead of them. Harry knew that the Gryffindors would be celebrating late into the night, but at the moment, he was simply glad to be spending some time with Moony; time that was, for once, not marred by an attack.  
  
"Thanks," Harry said, grinning.  
  
"I was especially impressed with your feint," Moony continued dryly, and Harry glanced at him and was relieved to see a smile playing on the corners of his guardian's mouth. Harry had been afraid for a moment that the adults would be angry with him for causing injury to Draco Malfoy even if he hadn't done it directly. From the amused look on Moony's face, however, Harry got the distinct impression that he was not alone in feeling that Malfoy had deserved the trick.  
  
"I only decided to do it after that git hit Ginny," Harry said, his expression darkening just a bit.  
  
"And rightly so, Harry. Honestly, that is not a move one usually sees on the school teams. Mr. Malfoy certainly was not expecting it, but I must admit you did it very well. Where did you learn it?"  
  
"I saw Viktor Krum do it at the Quidditch World Cup before fourth year," Harry said. "I've worked on it ever since, but I haven't been able to do it until recently. It takes a lot of control."  
  
Remus nodded. "It certainly does, Harry. I think you could have given Krum a run for his money today."  
  
"Really?" Harry grinned more broadly than ever at this compliment.  
  
"Absolutely. What do you say we head down to the kitchens? I could do with a cup of tea, couldn't you?"  
  
"You want to sneak into the kitchens?" Harry asked in amazement.  
  
"Harry, I _am_ a Marauder, and after your victories today, I believe that some minor rule-breaking is in order, wouldn't you say? I imagine you and your friends know how to get down there by now, don't you?"  
  
Harry noticed that Moony had said "victories" rather than "victory," and he wondered whether he knew about the failed attempt on Harry's mind during the game. He decided to wait until the older man brought it up, however, and he grinned as he said, "We've known how to get down there since fourth year."  
  
As they took the staircase down to the kitchen corridor, Moony glanced at Harry with an amused expression on his face. "Fourth year?" he said teasingly. "Harry, I'm surprised at you. James, Sirius, and I had it figured out before Christmas of our first year!"  
  
"Really?" Harry asked, hoping he was about to hear another story from his father's days at Hogwarts.  
  
"Really," Moony replied rather smugly. "James reckoned that it had to be somewhere below the Great Hall, and as his family and the Black family both had house-elves in their employ, they figured that the kitchens would be well-staffed with elves just waiting to provide us with whatever we fancied. They were right, of course, although it took the better part of the first term to actually find the entrance and figure out how to get in."  
  
"How did you do it without being seen?" Harry asked. It had been his experience that wandering around in the corridors after hours was a very dangerous thing for first years to do. It was easy to get lost, and the caretaker always seemed to know when students were out of bed.  
  
"Your father's Invisibility Cloak, of course," Remus answered. "From September on, the three of us went under it about every other night and explored the castle. Although we had not yet even thought of making the Marauder's Map yet, we all shared the desire to know the castle better than anyone else.  
  
"I suppose it was right before the Christmas holidays when we finally found the painting that was the entrance to the kitchens. We were standing in front of it, the invisibility cloak off so we could move around, when we heard someone coming down the stairs. We tried to put the cloak back on, but it is rather difficult to quickly cover three people."  
  
"Where was Peter?" Harry asked after he had nodded in agreement with this last statement. It was indeed difficult to completely cover three people very quickly.  
  
"This was before we knew Peter all that well," Remus answered with a slight grimace. "We should have kept it that way. Anyway, Sirius started running his hands up and down the painting, desperate to make it open before we were seen, and your father kept whispering the most ridiculous passwords at it. None of them worked, of course, but just as the person reached the bottom of the stairs, Sirius ran his hands over the pear and it began to giggle. We realized quickly what the secret must be, and all three of us tickled it until we gained entrance; just in time, I might add."  
  
Harry chuckled. It seemed that he, Ron, and Hermione were not the only students who were good at making escapes just in the nick of time.  
  
They had reached the painting at the kitchen entrance by now, but Remus turned to continue his story before he tickled the pear. "We had the Invisibility Cloak wrapped partially around us as we all crashed in at once. It must have been past midnight, and I'm sure you can imagine the house-elves' surprise to find Sirius's head, one of my arms, and James's feet come crashing through the door all of a sudden. After we took off the cloak, however, we were not disappointed. I think we ate more that night than we did at the Halloween feast, just from the sheer novelty of it." As he finished his story, Remus reached out and tickled the pear. It immediately turned into a door handle, and they walked in, only to be immediately accosted by a small figure wearing at least ten of Hermione's elf hats from the previous year.  
  
"Harry Potter is here! Come, bring Harry Potter some food!" Dobby called as he wrapped his arms around Harry's knees. "What is you wanting, Harry Potter? Tea? Biscuits? Why is you all wet, sir, and who is this man with you?"  
  
Harry rolled his eyes, but said, "Hi, Dobby. This is Professor Lupin. He used to be the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, and he's my guardian now."  
  
"Professor Lupin must be a great man to be guardian of the noble Harry Potter!" Dobby squeaked.  
  
"Thank you, Dobby," said Remus, deciding that it would be easier not to protest. "Harry and I were wondering if we could have a spot of tea and a private conversation?"  
  
Dobby bowed so deeply that the top of his hat skimmed the floor, and in the next instant four house-elves, all wearing crisp tea-towels stamped with the Hogwarts crest, hurried up to Harry and Remus bearing a large silver tray with a teapot, two cups, and an assortment of biscuits and breads.  
  
"Thank you," Remus said pleasantly.  
  
"Is there anything else that Harry Potter is wanting, sir? We is honored to serve the noble Harry Potter, the great and - "  
  
"Thanks, Dobby," Harry interrupted. "I think Remus and I are going to go sit at the table if that's all right."  
  
"Harry Potter asks if it is all right with Dobby!" the elf cried. "Dobby is honored to have Mr. Harry Potter sit down! Oh, wait till Dobby tells Winky, sir!" At the mention of Winky's name, the other house elves looked disapprovingly at Dobby, bowed to Harry and Remus, and went back to their work preparing the evening's supper.  
  
"Where is Winky?" Harry asked, looking around.  
  
"Winky is not well, Harry Potter, sir," Dobby said sadly. "Winky does not come to the kitchens anymore. Winky lives only with Mr. Filch now."  
  
"Winky's gone to stay with Filch?" Harry asked. "Why?"  
  
"Winky is not liking working in the kitchen with the other house elves, sir," Dobby answered, his ears drooping even more. "Winky has nowhere else to go, sir, so she goes to clean for Mr. Filch. Dobby only sees her once in awhile."  
  
"Oh," said Harry awkwardly, thinking of what Hermione would have to say about the matter. "Well, er, tell her we said hello, alright?"  
  
Dobby perked right up. "Oh, Dobby will tell her, Harry Potter! You is truly a kind and noble wizard!"  
  
"Thanks again, Dobby," Harry said, and was relieved when Remus interrupted.  
  
"I think Harry and I are going to sit down now and talk, Dobby. Thank you for everything," he said firmly.  
  
Dobby bowed once again and went to work with the rest of the elves, his grin still lighting up his ugly little face.  
  
"You have quite an admirer, Harry," Remus said with a smile.  
  
"Yeah, he's always been like that," Harry said, his face red with embarrassment.  
  
"You handle him very well," Moony replied. "Now, Harry, I wanted to ask you something about the game. When Malfoy was injured, what happened to you on the pitch? Why did you stop flying?"  
  
Harry replied, "You already know, don't you? That's why you're asking."  
  
Moony nodded. "Indeed, Harry, although I highly doubt that anyone besides Professor Dumbledore and I noticed, for most of the students and staff were watching Madam Pomfrey tend to Malfoy. It's very important for you to tell me exactly what happened, however."  
  
"Nothing, really," Harry said. "I was looking for the Snitch, and I felt Voldemort and Malfoy try to get into my mind again."  
  
"Did they succeed?" Remus asked with concern, although he thought he already knew the answer.  
  
"No," Harry said. "It was hard, but I managed to keep them from getting in. It was even harder than it was with Professor Dumbledore, I reckon because there were two of them."  
  
"How did you know it was both of them if they never got in?"  
  
"I don't know," Harry said. "But it was both of them. I'm sure of that."  
  
"I don't doubt you, Harry, but there are certain reasons why I need to know exactly what happened."  
  
"Like I said before, nothing happened. They tried to attack me. I put up my shields and pushed them out. That was all."  
  
"But that wasn't all, Harry," Remus said seriously.  
  
"What do you mean, it wasn't all?" Harry asked in confusion. He had been there, and nothing else had happened.  
  
"Did you not feel the force of your magical push against them, Harry? Did you not notice what you did?"  
  
"What did I do?" Harry asked, and he was getting tired of the questions. He wished Moony would just out with whatever was on his mind so they could get on to more pleasant topics.  
  
"The force of the power of your shield was felt by everyone in the stadium, Harry, in the form of something that felt like a gust of wind. Don't worry," he added hastily, seeing the alarmed look on Harry's face. "I believe everyone else simply thought it was a gust from the storm."  
  
"How do you know it wasn't?" Harry asked.  
  
"Professor Dumbledore and I both knew the origin of the energy surge as soon as we felt it. I can give you no other explanation than that - it was quite possibly because we had been watching you when it happened."  
  
Harry nodded, but his mind was racing. First his shield had become visible, and now his Occlumency defense was apparently sending out waves of magical energy. What was happening to him?  
  
"Harry," Remus said quietly, gazing at him intensely. "I believe you were correct in saying that it is time you told your friends about the prophecy."  
  
Harry nodded. He knew it was time.  
  
"I wanted to ask if you would like me to come and be with you when you do. It is completely up to you, Harry, but I will be here if that is what you want."  
  
Harry had been considering whether or not he wanted Moony to come with him when he talked to his friends ever since he had gotten the reply to his note. On one hand, he was dreading their reactions and wanted the support. On the other hand, while his friends liked Remus quite a bit, they were not as close to him as Harry was, and Harry thought that it might be better if they were alone. His decision made, he smiled faintly at his guardian. "Thanks, Moony," he said sincerely, "But I think this is something I have to do myself."  
  
Remus nodded. "My suggestion to you would be to use the Shrieking Shack, Harry."  
  
"That seems as though it would be as good a place as any, but how are we going to get past the Whomping Willow without being seen?"  
  
"Ah, Harry, you have so much yet to learn," Moony sighed, but he was smiling. "The Marauders long ago found a way into the Shrieking Shack that did not involve the Willow. All you have to do is go past the stile in Hogsmeade, loop around to the back side of the Shack, and you will find a gate concealed by a bush. Tap your wand on the latch, say 'Secret Unsecured,' and you can go in - that incantation unlocks the back door to the Shack as well. To lock it behind you, tap it again and say 'Secret Secured,' and the wards will go back up."  
  
Harry grinned. It seemed like the Marauders had an answer for everything, and having the Shrieking Shack as a private meeting place sounded like a very good idea indeed.  
  
"Now, Harry," Remus said. "Speaking of secrets, I think it is high time you and I found a better way to communicate than through owl post - what do you reckon?"  
  
"How, Moony?" Harry asked. "The Floo Network?"  
  
"No, not exactly," Remus said. "The only access you really have to the Floo Network is through Gryffindor's fire, and that is hardly secure."  
  
"What, then?" Harry asked. He carefully avoided mentioning the two-way mirror Sirius had given him. He did not know where Sirius's half was now, but he did not think he could bear to use it, even with Moony.  
  
"What I have in mind is something similar to a Portkey, Harry, although it will not physically transport us to another location."  
  
Harry was intrigued. This was something he had not heard of before. "Go on," he said eagerly.  
  
Remus dug in his pocket and pulled out a leather chain. Laced onto it was something that looked like a very small, very old glass bottle, which was corked tightly and seemed to hold a small amount of some sort of glistening silver potion. "This is for you, Harry," he said. "You can wear it under your robes, or you may leave it in your trunk if you are more comfortable doing so."  
  
Harry accepted the small amulet and was surprised to find that it was rather warm to the touch. "When you want to contact me, simply hold the vial in your hand and concentrate on the message you wish to send. The concentration it will require will be a bit like what you use in Legilimency, but you will find that, as there is no resistance involved, it will not drain your energy in the slightest. When you have made the connection, simply speak to me as you would if we were in the same room. On my end, I will be able to receive your message instantaneously."  
  
"What happens if you don't have it on you?" Harry asked, wondering how complicated this was to be.  
  
"It does not matter. If I am not in possession of my end at the time, the message will remain intact until I receive it. Much like the Galleon's Hermione charmed last year for the D.A., the potion inside the amulet will warm up considerably and turn blue until the message has been received."  
  
"It sounds a lot like an answerphone," Harry muttered, trying to understand how the amulets worked.  
  
"A what?" Remus asked with interest.  
  
"It's a machine the Muggles use to leave messages for each other when someone isn't home to pick up the telephone," Harry answered. He always forgot how little most wizards knew of Muggle technology.  
  
"Maybe so, but the best part about these is that they are completely private. Even if one of the amulets were to fall into the wrong hands, you and I are the only people who can use them. I've put several charms on them to see to that."  
  
Harry smiled. "That's brilliant, Moony!" he said. He was very glad indeed to have a safer means of communicating with his guardian than owl post, not the least of his reasons being that he did not want Hedwig to get hurt.  
  
Remus leaned back in his chair and took a long sip of his tea, looking carefully at Harry as he did so. He was very glad to see that Harry liked the means of communication he had found, and also that Harry seemed to be happier than he had been in a long time. The boy certainly deserved it, especially after his performance today.  
  
"Now, Harry, have you finished your tea?" Moony inquired. "Unless I am very much mistaken, I believe your house will be having quite a celebration in your common room this afternoon and into the evening. I shan't keep you from it any longer - let's go back up to the Tower, shall we?"  
  
Harry nodded, and he slipped the amulet Moony had given him into his innermost pocket, where he would be sure to feel it warming up if his guardian wanted to contact him. Together, they headed up to Gryffindor Tower, and Moony gave him the traditional one-armed hug as he prepared to leave Harry in front of the portrait of the fat lady.  
  
Remus walked back down the corridor, smiling when he heard the cheers that greeted Harry as he climbed through the portrait hole. Unless traditions had changed dramatically since his years at school, the party would continue until the Head of House showed up to put an end to it. He hoped it would.  
  


* * *

  
The next week flew by with Harry, Ron, Ginny, and the rest of the team continuing to bask in the glory of their win. Harry's Wronski Feint was quite a popular topic of conversation in the corridors, and everybody but the Slytherins felt that Malfoy had gotten exactly what he had deserved.  
  
Even Professor Dumbledore congratulated Harry in their next Legilimency session, telling him, as Moony had, that his father would have been very proud of the flying he had done at the game before they began. These sessions were becoming increasingly difficult and exhausting as Dumbledore had begun resisting Harry's attempts to break into his mind, and Harry had not yet been able to gain entrance when the Headmaster's Occlumency shields were up, although even the effort of trying was very tiring.  
  
Only two things bothered Harry that week. The first, of course, was the prospect of telling Ron, Ginny, and Hermione about the prophecy on Saturday in Hogsmeade. The second was the odd manner in which Kinsley treated Harry in their Friday dueling lesson. They went through all the motions of their normal classes, spending the first half working on defensive spells, the second half continuing work on dodging and feinting, but Kingsley seemed to be looking at Harry in a different, almost calculating way. Harry did not know the Auror well enough to comment on it, however; he simply hoped that he would reveal his reasons eventually.  
  
Harry had already arranged to spend the morning with Ginny in Hogsmeade, meet up with Ron and Hermione for lunch in the Three Broomsticks, and then move on to the Shrieking Shack to talk. He had not told his friends about this last bit, however. All they knew was that he wanted to talk to them privately, but he did not say where for fear of being overheard. All three of them had been giving him curious glances all week, but they did not push him.  
  


* * *

  
The morning of the first Hogsmeade visit was clear and cool, and Gryffindor tower buzzed with excitement as the students above third year prepared for a day outside of the castle. In the girls' dormitories, those who had dates took particular care as they dressed and did their hair, and those who did not gabbed excitedly about visiting the shops. The boys were a bit rowdier than usual as they prepared for the day as well, teasing one another about their dates and eagerly anticipating trips to Zonko's Joke Shop and Honeyduke's.  
  
Ginny met Harry in the common room in time to go down to the Great Hall for an early breakfast. Harry had asked that they go early so they could spend as much time together as possible before lunch...it was their first real date, after all, and he was looking forward to it as he resolved not to think about the prophecy until he had to.  
  
After a quick breakfast, Harry and Ginny left the Great Hall hand in hand, looking forward to their day. Harry could not help but notice how pretty Ginny looked, her hair tied back in a long, red-gold plait, her cheeks flushed in the cool breeze.  
  
"Ginny," he said. "You look beautiful." He flushed with embarrassment as he said the words, but she rewarded him with a huge smile and a kiss on the cheek.  
  
"Thank you, Harry," she said softly.  
  
"So, er," Harry began, finding that he felt more than a little awkward after that exchange. "What do you want to do this morning?"  
  
"Well," Ginny said with a mischievous look on her pretty face. "I want to visit Zonko's, first of all. I owe Hermione one, big time."  
  
"You owe _Hermione_ a prank?" Harry asked incredulously. He could not imagine Hermione playing a joke on anyone.  
  
"We-ell," Ginny said slowly, a teasing smile playing on the corners of her lips. "You know how Hermione's always on us to work on our homework?"  
  
"Yeah," Harry answered. She was famous for it, and he still dreaded opening the homework planner she had given him for Christmas the previous year, knowing that it would squawk at him the moment he did with an ingenious taunt such as, "Don't save it for later, you big second-rater!"  
  
"Well, she was teasing me about, er, drifting off when I was doing my homework...thinking of...other things..." Ginny trailed off, looking slightly embarrassed.  
  
"So what did she do?" said Harry, completely oblivious to the fact that she was speaking of him.  
  
"Well, she charmed the parchment I was working on while I slipped off to the ladies' room," Ginny began, but she stopped, wondering if it really was a good idea to tell Harry about what had happened. She didn't want to embarrass him, and from her experience with her brothers, she had an idea what his reaction would be.  
  
"What did she make it do?" Harry asked with interest. Hermione was exceptionally good at her charms, and could be extremely creative with them.  
  
"Well, I came back into the library and started work again, but the essay was a really boring one, and I started daydreaming again. When I had stopped writing for more than about thirty seconds, my parchment suddenly screamed, for the entire library to hear, 'Daydreaming about Harry is not going to get your work done, Ginevra Weasley!'"  
  
Harry stopped so suddenly that Ginny knocked into his shoulder. He was mortified. "She did _what_?" he asked indignantly.  
  
"Madam Pince came over and hit me around the head with her feather duster and made me leave the library. Everyone was laughing," Ginny finished, tugging on Harry's hand to make him continue walking.  
  
"Oh, let's get her!" Harry said, trying to find the humor in the situation. He had to admit that he found the idea that Ginny daydreamed about him quite...intoxicating, but he was not at all sure that he appreciated having every student in the library knowing about it.  
  
They reached Hogsmeade a few minutes later, and headed straight to the joke shop. They were the first customers in the store, and they looked for almost half an hour for the perfect prank to play on Hermione in retribution.  
  
"Harry, look at this!" Ginny cried as she came across the shop to show him what she had found. In her hands was what looked like a normal, bright red folder. It actually looked similar to a folder Hermione used to keep her assignments from getting crumpled.  
  
"What does it do?" Harry asked.  
  
"Watch." Ginny took a spare bit of parchment from her pocket and placed it inside the folder. When she opened the folder again, the parchment was gone.  
  
"Brilliant!" Harry said. "But what happens when she tries to turn something in, but she can't find it? We don't want to get her in trouble with her professors - she'd never speak to us again."  
  
"Oh, the next time she opens it, the parchment will be back again." Ginny demonstrated, closing the folder and opening it once again. The parchment reappeared. "It'll just give her a bit of fright, but it won't actually make her papers disappear permanently."  
  
"Perfect, Ginny." Harry took the folder from her and paid for it at the front of the shop.  
  
The pranking of Hermione dispelled any awkwardness Harry had felt, and they spent the rest of the morning walking through Hogsmeade, their hands entwined, looking into all of the shops and stopping to chat with their fellow students. Harry felt sure that he saw Remus and Tonks more than once in the village, and he knew they were most likely his guard, but at that very moment he could not find it in himself to mind very much. He was having such a good time with Ginny that he did not even think about his meeting with his friends until they had finished lunch at the Three Broomsticks.  
  
As Harry, Ron, Ginny, and Hermione got up to leave, Hermione thumping Ron on the shoulder for paying too much attention to Madam Rosemerta, the thoughts of the prophecy once again settled into his stomach, and he went very quiet as they walked towards the end of the main road in Hogsmeade.  
  
"Harry, are you okay?" Ginny asked him as he led them around the back of the Shrieking Shack.  
  
"I'm okay, Ginny," Harry answered, but he was not at all sure that he was telling the truth this time. He had put off telling his friends about the prophecy for such a long time, and now that the moment had finally come, he found himself wishing that Remus were with him after all. Harry looked around for his guardian, sure that he was following them, but did not see him anywhere. He sighed. He knew that it was probably best that he told his friends on his own, but he had been sorely tempted to change his mind and invite Moony to come along.  
  
Harry worked the charm on the gate, and they followed him silently into the Shrieking Shack, Ginny looking around curiously while Ron and Hermione were reminded forcibly of the night they had met Sirius Black in this very house. They were halfway up the stairs when Harry remembered that he hadn't cast the charm on the door to restore the wards. Asking them to go on ahead of him, he went back down the stairs. The back door was slightly ajar, and Harry cursed his stupidity as he closed it and locked it with his wand. He felt very lucky that they had not been followed.  
  
He went back up the stairs to the room in which he had met his godfather for the first time, and he found his friends sitting side by side on the bed, looking at him expectantly.  
  
"OK, Harry," Ron said bluntly. "Talk."  
  
Harry nodded and took a deep breath, sitting down in a very dusty, bedraggled looking wooden chair. "There's something I need to tell you guys. Dumbledore's telling the Order tonight, but I wanted to be the one to tell you."  
  
Ginny suddenly looked very nervous. "What is it, Harry?"  
  
"You know how you have been wondering why I'm getting all of these special lessons?" They all nodded. "Well, it's not just because I keep getting myself into dangerous situations. There's a bit more to it than that."  
  
"We all know You-Know-Who has it in for you, Harry, because of what happened when you were a baby," Ron said, thinking that was what he wanted to tell them.  
  
"That's not the whole of it," Harry said with great difficulty.  
  
"Harry, what could be worse than Voldemort being after you?" Hermione asked kindly. She meant it as a bolster to Harry's confidence, a way to let him know that they would be able to handle whatever he had to say, but it only seemed to make him more reluctant to continue.  
  
After a moment, Ginny said, "Harry? Whatever it is, just tell us." She didn't think she could stand to wait much longer.  
  
"You remember at the...at the Department of Mysteries, what the Death Eaters were after? That prophecy?"  
  
"Neville broke it," Ron said, but he, too, was starting to look nervous.  
  
"I know he did, Ron, but that night, after we all left and you lot went to the hospital wing, Dumbledore told me what it said."  
  
"What did it say, Harry?" Hermione asked softly, and he noticed that all three of them had gone rather pale.  
  
"It was about me...and about Voldemort," Harry began.  
  
"What about you and ...Vol-, Voldemort?" Ginny said, saying the name for the first time in her life, her voice barely above a whisper.  
  
Harry took a deep breath and recited the words to the prophecy, the words that had been haunting him since the beginning of the summer holiday. " _The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches...Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies....and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not...and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives...The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies..._ "*  
  
Tears filled Hermione's eyes, and Harry could see on Ron's face that he was trying to work out exactly what the prophecy meant. Ginny looked completely stricken. Harry wanted to go to her, but he remained in his chair.  
  
"Harry," Hermione said, the tears spilling over her lids and starting to stream down her face. "Does that mean..."  
  
"Yes," Harry said simply.  
  
"What does it mean?" Ginny asked, her voice breaking slightly. She thought she knew, but she hoped she was wrong.  
  
"It means that I'm the only one who can kill Voldemort," Harry said, trying to keep his voice strong. "It means that before this is over, either I have to kill him or he has to kill me." He had rehearsed this line over and over in his head. Remus had said that the best approach was simplicity. The prophecy was not ambiguous, and if his friends were going to know about it, they had to understand it.  
  
Ginny burst into tears, and he finally went to her, pulling her off of the bed and into a tight embrace. "Ginny," he whispered. "It's going to be all right."  
  
She broke away. "How can you say that?" she asked. "How can anything be all right? Why is it you, Harry?"  
  
"I don't know," Harry said, his heart breaking at the pain in her eyes. "But Dumbledore and Kingsley and everyone else are teaching me what I need to know to do it, and I will do it." His voice hardened slightly. "If I have to be the one to stop him, then I am going to stop him. I'm not going to let him hurt any of you." He had not meant to say the last line, but more than anything else, he had just stated the reasons behind his determination.  
  
Ron sat on the bed, his arm around Hermione, who was leaning in on him, sobbing quietly. His expression was one of complete horror.  
  
"You're going to have to do it?" Ron whispered. "Not Dumbledore?"  
  
"According to the prophecy, I'm the only one who can," Harry replied, tightening his grip on Ginny.  
  
With a great, final sniff, Hermione sat up straight and looked at Harry, wiping the tears from her face. "We're going to help you, Harry," she said simply, a steely strength creeping into her voice. "If you have to be the one to kill him, then we are going to help you get ready, and when it is time, we are going to stand and fight with you."  
  
Harry smiled a bit. She had just repeated, almost word-for-word, what Remus had told him that summer. He felt Ginny stiffen in his arms, and then she, too, wiped the tears from her face and nodded.  
  
"You're not going to be alone, Harry," she promised. "Never again are you going to be alone."  
  
"Right," Ron said. "We've come this far with you. We'll go the rest of the way, too. No way are you going to stop us, mate. Not this time."  
  
Harry's heart welled as he looked at the three people he treasured most in the world: Ron, his first friend, who had always stood beside him; Hermione, the cleverest witch of her year, who rose to every occasion and had always been there for him; and Ginny, his Ginny, who had always been in the shadows of the other two, but who was fast becoming the single most important person in his life.  
  
"Thank you," he said softly, "But - "  
  
"No buts, Harry Potter," Hermione and Ginny said in unison, and Harry and Ron gaped at them. They sounded eerily like Mrs. Weasley.  
  
Ginny looked at Harry, and her brown eyes showed no hints of compromise. "You're going to need us," she said bluntly. "And if you think we're going to turn our backs on you now and just leave it all up to you, you're mental."  
  
"Mental," Ron repeated firmly.  
  
Harry appreciated everything they were saying, and somewhere in the back of his mind he knew they were right, but that didn't stop him from saying, "You all are in more danger now that you know. I don't want - "  
  
"Harry," Hermione said firmly. "Everyone's in danger now, and that won't change until Voldemort is gone. Don't you dare think for one second that we aren't going to stay right by your side. Killing Voldemort may be your destiny, but standing beside you is ours."  
  
His heart full of emotion, but somehow lighter than it had been for months, Harry led his friends back out into the sunshine, and they stopped at the Three Broomsticks for a final butterbeer before returning to school.  
  
After the four Gryffindors were well out of sight, a pale arm grasping a wand poked out from under the folds of a silvery invisibility cloak. "Secret Unsecured," the voice drawled.


	25. Giant Mistakes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Harry's friends and teachers push him to his absolute limit, Draco Malfoy tries a different tactic in winning the Dark Lord's favor.

Molly sat weakly in her chair as Dumbledore's words faded into silence. Harry, the boy she loved like a son, was the one destined to defeat He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named? She could not believe it...everyone had assumed that _Dumbledore_ would be the one to kill Voldemort. After all, hadn't he defeated Grindelwald? Wasn't he considered to be the greatest wizard of the age? How could a teenage boy be expected to carry such a burden on his shoulders?  
  
Everyone in the room was silent, many of them pale and disbelieving. Of course, everyone in the Order knew that the Dark Lord had been targeting Harry ever since he had gotten the first vestiges of his strength back when Harry was eleven, but they had always assumed it had been because the boy had survived Voldemort's killing curse. Most of them had never given much thought as to _why_ he had chosen to go after Harry in the first place.  
  
"Well, this explains a lot," Mad-Eye Moody growled.  
  
"And you are certain that the prophecy refers to Potter, Albus?" McGonagall asked, knowing the answer, but still needing to pose the question.  
  
Dumbledore sighed as he looked at the astonished faces around the room before he answered the Deputy Headmistress. "Yes, Minerva. I am afraid there is no question. The prophecy is very specific. The one to defeat Voldemort had to be born at the end of July to parents who had defied Voldemort three times."  
  
"Was Harry the only wizard born that met those criteria?" Kingsley Shacklebolt asked calmly, and Molly glanced at him. He had a good point, and she found herself hoping that there was reason for doubt.  
  
"No," Dumbledore answered heavily, catching the hopeful glint in Molly's eyes. "One other boy met the criteria at his birth."  
  
"Who?" Tonks asked, and everyone looked at the Headmaster expectantly, even Remus, who had not heard this bit when Dumbledore had originally told him about the prophecy.  
  
"Neville Longbottom," Dumbledore replied.  
  
"Longbottom?" McGonagall said disbelievingly. She had seen both boys in her classes, and it did not seem possible that Neville would ever have enough power to defeat Voldemort. Although Harry was a bit lax in his studies at times, anyone could see that he was a more powerful wizard.  
  
"What are you not telling us, Professor?" Bill asked seriously. He could see the hope in his mother's eyes, but he knew that Dumbledore would not have made this announcement unless he was certain.  
  
"Voldemort himself decided which of the two wizards was the greatest threat and made an immediate move to eliminate him. I am speaking, of course, of the attack on the Potters fifteen years ago," Dumbledore said.  
  
"And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal..." Bill muttered, and as she heard her oldest son's words, Molly gasped. She had been so caught up in worrying that Harry was going to have to battle the most evil wizard of all time that she hadn't thought much about the details of the prophecy.  
  
"You mean that when You-Know-Who tried to kill Harry, he marked him as an equal?" Molly whispered. If this was true, there was no hope that Harry was not the person to whom the prophecy referred. It was not that she wanted it to be someone else; she just didn't want it to be Harry. He had been through so much already, and if this prophecy was correct, it wasn't about to end anytime soon.  
  
"Not intentionally," Dumbledore answered, looking directly at her. "Voldemort did not have the full contents of the prophecy, and he did not know that an attempt on Harry's life would mean a risk of transferring powers to him."  
  
"You-Know-Who transferred powers to Harry?" George broke in, exchanging a horrified glance with Fred.  
  
"It is my belief that Harry's ability to speak Parseltongue and his natural abilities at Occlumency were direct results of a transfer of power that occurred when Voldemort's curse failed."  
  
"But..." Fred stammered, trying to get a grasp on all they had been told. When he had joined the Order, he'd had no idea of the weight of the information he would be given.  
  
"Harry knows about this?" Arthur broke in.  
  
"He does," Dumbledore replied. "I told him the night of the attack on the Ministry."  
  
"Why did you not tell us this before, Albus?" Kingsley asked. "We knew we were guarding the prophecy, of course, and it would have stood to reason for us to know the contents of it."  
  
"As Voldemort did not yet know the full contents, Kingsley, I thought it unwise to repeat it unless absolutely necessary."  
  
"Thank heavens the prophecy was broken, then," Molly said with some relief. "At least we no longer have to worry about You-Know-Who getting his hands on it."  
  
Remus glanced worriedly at Molly. Arthur, noticing the expression on his face, asked softly, "You-Know-Who doesn't know, does he?"  
  
It was Lupin who answered this question. "Voldemort was able to extract the contents of the prophecy from Harry's mind during the attack on Harry's birthday. It was what he had been after all along," he said heavily.  
  
Molly's gazed snapped immediately to Dumbledore, her eyes flashing. "You-Know-Who knows?" she asked, her voice dangerously steely. "He's known ever since Harry's birthday? He's known, and we haven't?" Her voice rose in pitch and in volume as she continued.  
  
"Molly - " Remus began, but he did not get to finish his comment.  
  
"Don't you _dare_ interrupt me, Remus! Just because I am not Harry's legal guardian does not make him any less mine than he is yours!" Her gaze snapped to Dumbledore, and as she continued the pitch of her voice suddenly lowered to a fierce growl, the sound of a mother whose child has been threatened.  
  
"And _you_ ," she snarled, standing up to stare into Dumbledore's face, which was strangely impassive. "You stand there high and mighty as can be, the infallible Albus Dumbledore, the only one who knows what's right. That is not good enough anymore, Dumbledore. You had no right to keep this from us! You-Know-Who knew, but you still kept silent, you still let Harry bear this all on his own."  
  
"Molly, dear - " Arthur broke in, a pleading note in his voice, reaching up to place a comforting hand on her arm. Everyone at the table looked shocked, even Fred and George, who had been shouted at by their mother regularly for most of their lives.  
  
"No, Arthur, you let me finish!" Molly wrenched her arm from his grasp and continued to stare at the Headmaster, a fury unlike anything any of them had ever seen burning in her eyes. "Ever since Harry's parents died you have taken complete control over his life, and look what's happened to him! He spent ten years with those monsters you call his family, being abused and neglected, never knowing what it was to be loved, when there were any number of people who could have cared for him, could have given him a home! You have turned a blind eye as he has been placed in more dangerous situations than even the Aurors have ever had to face. You have allowed him to be abused by your staff members, belittled by the press, and put under trial for defending himself against an event which never should have happened!"  
  
Dumbledore finally spoke as Molly stopped to take a breath, his voice sad and weary. "Molly, I do not claim to have always done the right things for Harry, but you must understand that his survival was my first priority. I did what I thought was correct at the time."  
  
"As I said before, that is no longer good enough, Dumbledore," Molly snarled viciously. "Harry's survival was your first priority, was it? Where were you when his aunt and uncle nearly starved him to death as punishment? Where were you when Quirrell almost killed him when he was only eleven years old? Where were you when he was attacked by a Basilisk, and _where were you in that graveyard_ after the Triwizard Tournament? My children have told me everything that has happened to him since he came to Hogwarts. Oh, yes, Dumbledore, Harry has survived. No thanks to you!"  
  
Furious tears ran down Molly's face as she finished. No one spoke as she angrily strode away from the table and over to the sideboard, where she seized a knife from the block and began fiercely chopping the first vegetable she could find, which happened to be an oversized onion that she was to add to the stew for the evening's dinner. Remus stood, about to go over and talk to her, but all four of the Weasley men at the table held up their hands silently to stop him.  
  
"You want to leave her alone, mate," Bill said softly. "She always gets to cooking when she's upset. It's the best thing for her."  
  
Remus nodded and sat back down while the rest of the Order members, some of whom were not at all accustomed to Molly's temper, tried to recover so they could resume the meeting. Dumbledore looked incredibly grave, but he did not respond to Molly's accusations. He had simply inclined his head at her as she had stopped speaking, and then sat down in his chair at the head of the table, surveying the group quietly.  
  
Snape, the only Order member that had not spoken at all through the revelation of the prophecy, asked in a rather contemptuous voice, "And what makes any of us believe that Potter will be able to defeat the Dark Lord? I have seen nothing to suggest that he has that kind of power."  
  
"Severus," Dumbledore began before Remus could retort, "I believe that Harry is beginning to show power beyond anything we have seen to this point. Did you attend the Quidditch match last week?"  
  
Snape nodded, his expression disdainful. He did not know why everyone was so impressed with Potter's antics on the pitch, and of what consequence his arrogant showing-off was to the matter at hand. Being the Seeker on a school Quidditch team was certainly not going to help anyone defeat the Dark Lord.  
  
His expression changed, however, as he listened to Dumbledore recount Harry's success at pushing Voldemort and Lucius Malfoy out of his mind, and the resultant wave of magical energy that had passed through the entire pitch. Remus was very uncomfortable with the calculating look that came into Snape's eyes, and he made a mental note to discuss it with Dumbledore privately.  
  
"I had a suspicion that something like that had happened," Kingsley admitted in his deep voice.  
  
"Were you at the Quidditch match?" Tonks asked.  
  
"No," Kingsley answered, "But when magic that powerful is unleashed, we are alerted to it at Auror Headquarters. After some research, I came to the conclusion that the surge had come from Harry, but he did not seem to be aware of how he had done it when I had him for practice the following week."  
  
"Did you ask him about it?" Remus asked.  
  
"No, I did not, but I watched him very closely. He seems to have no idea of the amount of power he exhibited. I believe if he had understood the significance of the event, he would have been more interested in how to harness it."  
  
"Why didn't you say anything to anyone, Kingsley?" Tonks asked. "I saw you at least twice when I checked in at the Ministry."  
  
"I thought it wise to keep it to myself until I knew more about what had happened," Kingsley responded. "I did not know that anyone else knew about it."  
  
"If that kind of power is within Potter's abilities as a wizard," Mad-Eye said, "He must learn how to use it to his own advantage, or it will prove dangerous."  
  
Dumbledore nodded. "It is something I will discuss with Harry, and I believe it is time that he and I progressed into wandless magic."  
  
Fred and George openly gaped at Dumbledore. They had never met anyone with the ability to perform wandless magic besides the Headmaster, who did it very rarely.  
  
"Wandless magic, Albus?" McGonagall said doubtfully. "That is well beyond N.E.W.T.-level skill, and I know of few wizards who have ever been able to achieve it."  
  
"Harry has always shown the ability for wandless magic, Minerva, more so than the average witch or wizard. Do not forget the things he has done before this time - the incident with his aunt, most specifically. I am not suggesting that Harry learn wandless magic - I am suggesting that he learn to control what he already has. There could be a time when the ability to perform magic without a wand could be vital."  
  
"Why, Albus? Why would he need to perform magic without a wand?" Molly asked suddenly, turning from her stew. She seemed to have calmed down quite a lot, but there was still a fair bit of confrontation in her voice as she addressed the Headmaster. Everyone knew it would not take much to set her off again.  
  
"If Harry loses his wand in a duel, for example," Kingsley Shacklebolt answered, "the ability to defend himself without a wand could save his life. I have already been teaching him manners of dodging unfriendly spells, and in these sessions Harry has not used his wand."  
  
Albus Dumbledore was immensely relieved that Kingsley had provided this explanation, and even more so when Molly nodded her acceptance of it. Very few people in the world knew of the connection between Voldemort's wand and Harry's, and Dumbledore thought it best to keep it that way. If Voldemort had not found out the nature of the wand connection, it could prove to be an immense advantage for Harry, and the less people knew, the less likely the Dark Lord would be able to find out.  
  
"What can we do?" Molly asked the room in general. Now that the stew was bubbling and the tension in the room had lessened a bit, she was ready for rational conversation again.  
  
"We can teach him," Tonks answered promptly. "Make certain he is ready when the time comes for him to fight."  
  
"As it seems that he is our only chance to win this war, we'd best protect him until he is ready," Moody added.  
  
"We're already doing that," Lupin countered.  
  
"Potter will need a guard around him even inside the castle now," Moody said. "The wards around the castle are excellent, but they will not stop impersonators."  
  
"We are not putting a guard on Harry while he is inside the castle," Dumbledore spoke up at last.  
  
"You do not think Alastor has a point?" McGonagall asked.  
  
Remus was watching Snape, who added nothing to this conversation but had his eyes narrowed, following the discussion's progress around the room. He was growing increasingly uncomfortable with Snape's involvement in Harry's protection, but he could not put his finger on exactly why he felt the way he did. He was certain the Potions master was loyal to the Order, but not at all sure that the man was concerned about Harry's safety or well-being in the slightest.  
  
"We can't risk the boy's life before he fights Voldemort," Moody said plainly and brutally. "Whether he likes it or not, he has to be watched."  
  
Molly couldn't take it anymore. "Stop talking about Harry as if he were a weapon in this war," she snapped at Mad-Eye Moody, who met her gaze unflinchingly. "We're not going to 'risk his life' at all! He is a teenage boy. I don't care what that prophecy says - as the adults in his life, it is our responsibility to keep him as far away from the fighting as we can, to protect him!"  
  
"Molly," Arthur said gently. "If what the prophecy says is true -"  
  
"We are not about to let Harry battle You-Know-Who _alone_ ," Molly retorted, her voice shaking slightly.  
  
"Of course we're not, Molly, be reasonable," Lupin said.  
  
"The fact remains," Dumbledore said quietly, "that in the end, Harry will be the only person who can vanquish Voldemort. In the end, try and protect him as we might, I am afraid that Harry _will_ be alone."  
  
"Don't say that, Albus," Molly said weakly, "just...don't say that." Her anger ebbed away to be replaced by the raw emotion that had fueled it: her fear for the boy she loved as her own. She sat down, the stew on the fire forgotten, and covered her face with her hands.  
  
"We cannot deny the fact that Potter must be made ready," McGonagall said. "If he is to have any chance, he must be trained. I do not like to think of what will happen if he is not."  
  
"Harry will not fight until he was ready," Lupin agreed, his voice breaking slightly. "If we cannot keep him from this destiny, we can at least keep him safe until it is his time."  
  
"Am I correct in assuming, Remus, that Harry told his friends about the prophecy at Hogsmeade this afternoon?" Dumbledore inquired.  
  
"Yes," Remus said heavily, "although I did not get the chance to ask him how it went. Everyone seemed to be all right when they went to the Three Broomsticks afterwards, however."  
  
Snape's head snapped up. "Potter told his friends at Hogsmeade?"  
  
"Not exactly in Hogsmeade, Severus," Remus answered. "I gave them the passwords to the Shrieking Shack."  
  
"You are certain they weren't followed?" Snape continued.  
  
"Remus and I followed Harry all day, right up to the entrance to the Shack," Tonks answered. "No one was there besides Ron, Ginny, Hermione, and Harry. They were alone when they came back out as well."  
  
Snape made no further comment, but when the meeting adjourned a few minutes later, he seemed to be in a particular hurry to get back to the castle.  
  


* * *

  
Draco waited until he was all the way back to the castle and in his empty dormitory room before removing his Invisibility Cloak. He was reeling with what he'd heard Potter tell his pathetic friends in the Shrieking Shack and he knew that he would be rewarded for coming to his Master with the information. He turned immediately, intending to head for the dungeon chamber before the other Slytherins returned from dinner, but he stopped before he reached the entrance to the common room.  
  
 _He already knows_ , Draco thought, his stomach sinking as his quick mind realized the inevitable truth. _That's why I'm supposed to be watching for any powers Potter might be developing. The Dark Lord already knows about the prophecy_.  
  
Even in his disappointment at not being the first to tell his Lord this news, Draco's face was set into a decided smirk. If Harry Potter was the only one who could kill Lord Voldemort, then Draco knew without a doubt that what his father had promised him would indeed come to pass - the Dark Lord would triumph, and in his new reign the Malfoy family would be honored beyond belief as his most loyal and trusted followers.  
  
Draco had a hard time waiting until the next morning to begin the next phase of his mission, but his father had warned him about calling attention to himself by seeming absent from the day-to-day activities of the school. He had convinced his friends that he was not interested in going to Hogsmeade anymore, but he would have a harder time explaining why he wasn't at dinner.  
  
Early the next morning, Draco woke before his roommates and silently slipped on his Invisibility Cloak once again before heading to the main doors of the castle, bearing a heavy package in one arm.  
  


* * *

  
Albus Dumbledore was enjoying an early-morning cup of tea as he began answering several owls he had received over the course of the night. As he stirred his regular three lumps of sugar into his cup, one of the delicate silver instruments in his office suddenly glowed red and began whirring. He rose quickly and went to it, prodding it with his wand and sighing deeply when he saw the results.  
  
A lone figure strode purposefully into the Forbidden Forest, looking neither right nor left, which suggested to Dumbledore that he might be under an Invisibility Cloak because he did not seemed concerned about being followed. As Draco Malfoy crossed the wards and disappeared into the dense woods, the Headmaster returned to his chair, the morning's owls forgotten.  
  
"Fawkes," Dumbledore said softly to the phoenix standing proudly on the perch next to his desk, "I will need you to contact Severus Snape. I wish to speak with him as quickly as possible." The phoenix disappeared in a flash of fire.  
  
The Headmaster sat quietly in his chair, calmly sipping his tea, until Severus Snape knocked on his office door. "Please come in," Dumbledore answered, standing to greet the Potions master. "I trust you slept well, Severus?" he inquired politely.  
  
"Yes, Headmaster," Snape replied. "Might I ask why I have been called to you so early this morning? Your phoenix seemed to feel that it was a matter of some urgency."  
  
"Fawkes has always been excellent at reading my emotions," Dumbledore said. "This is an important matter, and one that should be dealt with immediately, Severus. A few moments ago, the wards at the edge of the Forbidden Forest were breached from the inside."  
  
"Potter, no doubt," Snape replied.  
  
"No, Professor," Dumbledore said, and there was a touch of severity in his voice. "Harry did not breach the wards. He is, I assume, still asleep in his dormitory. Draco Malfoy entered the Forbidden Forest this morning, carrying a large parcel, and possibly concealed under an invisibility cloak."  
  
"What reason would Malfoy have for entering the forest?" Snape asked, but Dumbledore noticed that he seemed rather uncomfortable.  
  
Dumbledore surveyed the man in front of him carefully. "That is what I was going to ask you, Severus. Is there something you wish for me to know?" he prompted.  
  
When Snape did not reply, the Headmaster sighed. "Very well. Severus, I should like you to keep a very close watch on Mr. Malfoy. He still has time before he must make his decision, and I have hope for him yet."  
  
"As you wish, of course, Headmaster," Snape said quietly, but there was an odd look in his eyes, and Dumbledore suddenly realized that the man in front of him was carefully keeping an Occlumency shield up, although trying to be inconspicuous about it. "Will that be all?"  
  
"Yes, Severus, and thank you," Dumbledore said with a frown as Snape swept from his office. The Headmaster was worried now - not about Snape's loyalties, but about what situation he may have become involved in that would require him to keep secrets from the Order. His job, after all, was to be the Order's spy, and Dumbledore guessed that the stakes must be very high indeed.  
  
Draco Malfoy was another worry. His father, Lucius Malfoy, was one of the highest-ranking members of Voldemort's inner circle, and although it was a known fact that underage wizards were not initiated into the ranks of the Death Eaters, Dumbledore could not help but worry about that very event. Draco had been raised in a family without love, as had so many of the followers of Voldemort, and the desire to impress his father and to gain power in Voldemort's circles would be a very great temptation for the young man.  
  
Albus Dumbledore sat down at his desk and sighed heavily as he began sorting through his morning mail once again. He was beginning to feel his age.  
  


* * *

  
It was midmorning before Draco found Grawp in his spot in the forest. His heart leapt in his chest and he almost dropped his parcel as he came around a corner, exhausted and considering giving up, and saw the giant, standing nearly seventeen feet tall, lazily plucking large branches from the top of the evergreen to which he was tied and throwing them hard through the forest. It was perhaps a good thing that Draco had yet to remove his invisibility cloak, because if he had, the giant would have seen the boy shaking, his eyes wide with fear and disgust.  
  
Malfoy stood perfectly still for a full minute, his heart pounding, before making his way towards Grawp's paddock, reminding himself that the beast was tied up and couldn't hurt him. He arranged his face into a confident smirk before he removed the invisibility cloak and walked straight at the giant, stopping just far enough away that the length of the ropes would not allow it to reach him.  
  
"I bring a gift for the Gurg," Draco began as he had been instructed, careful not to allow his voice to betray his fear.  
  
The giant's gaze snapped to the small human standing before him, holding a package wrapped in brown paper. His massive forehead creased in thought as he considered this strange turn of events.  
  
"Grawp not Gurg," he said slowly. "Hagger Gurg."  
  
Draco had been expecting something of this sort. He bowed, rolling his eyes when he was sure the giant couldn't see him do so. "I thought that someone of your great size and stature would surely have been the Gurg of the Forest Giants," he drawled. "I did not think it would be a small giant like Hagrid. I am mistaken, and I will leave you to your game." These words sounded almost scripted because he had practiced them so many times on his trip through the forest, but Grawp did not seem to notice.  
  
As planned, Draco carefully placed his package just within the giant's reach, pulled on his invisibility cloak, and carefully backtracked his way through the forest, barely holding in a shout of derisive laughter at the utterly stupid creature he had left behind. His father had been correct. This would be easy.  
  
No sooner had this thought entered his head than he heard the distinct sounds of hooves rustling through fallen leaves of the forest floor, and he knew that he was being watched. Draco picked up the pace under the invisibility cloak and breathed a huge sigh of relief as he finally exited the forest to make his report.  
  


* * *

  
Harry's friends had risen magnificently to their self-imposed challenge of helping Harry prepare for his eventual battle with Voldemort. Although Harry noticed that Ginny seemed to cling to him a bit more tightly than she had before, they had not faltered in their resolve and had not given way to fear or to pity. They had made a promise to their friend, and their newfound sense of purpose and determination was secondary only to that of Harry, himself.  
  
Harry had only communicated with Moony once, the night after the trip to Hogsmeade. He had gone to bed after his nightly dueling practice with Ron, Hermione and Ginny, and when he was digging in his trunk for his pajamas he had seen the glow and felt the warmth of his amulet, signaling that Remus had left him a message. He'd smiled, thinking again of the answerphone on the Dursley's kitchen counter. The message had been short and relatively simple, telling Harry that the Order was now informed of the Prophecy and that, as always, they were there to help Harry if ever he needed it. Harry wondered how long it would be before he heard from Mrs. Weasley.  
  
Ron seemed to have decided that the best way to help Harry was to see that he was in the best physical condition of his life. He insisted that Harry, Ginny, and Hermione join him in not one, but both of the daily runs scheduled by Tonks each day. At Quidditch practice he was equally unrelenting, pushing Harry to try new and more daring moves on his Firebolt, enchanting the Snitch to fly at double speed, and ordering the Beaters to put Harry through the paces even more than they usually did.  
  
Hermione, of course, began pushing Harry even harder in his studies and in his preparation for the D.A. meetings. On her orders, Ron had rummaged through Harry's trunk one evening to find the dreaded homework planner, and she began writing Harry's assignments in it herself, both the ones assigned by their teachers and adding her own, which were always focused on Defense techniques. While he rather enjoyed the subject matter, he found Hermione's assignments incredibly difficult and yet another strain on his time.  
  
All in all, by Friday morning, Ginny was the only one of his friends who Harry did not feel like locking in a Vanishing Cabinet for a week so he could get some peace. Ginny had kept him sane, dragging him through the portrait hole for walks when she could see him mussing his hair in frustration over his work, gently advising him to go to sleep when she could see his eyes droop with fatigue, and generally just offering her support without asking anything more from him.  
  
Harry left the lunch table in the Great Hall to meet Kingsley for their weekly dueling lesson feeling very irritated indeed. Ron had scheduled an extra Quidditch practice for Saturday, and when Harry had finished his food and shouldered his bag to leave, Ron and Hermione were too busy arguing over the best use of Harry's weekend time to even notice that he was about to go.  
  
"Look!" Harry finally exploded, trying but failing to keep his voice down. "I don't need you telling me how to spend my weekend, all right? Are you happy with the fact that between homework, Quidditch, dueling practice, and those runs I have no time to myself, no time with Ginny, no time to even think about talking to Moony? I have enough on my plate without you lot appointing yourselves my keepers!"  
  
Ron and Hermione had stared at him, their mouths open, looking hurt. Harry was immediately sorry he had shouted, and he lowered his voice somewhat as he continued. "It's not that I don't appreciate your help, all right?" he said, trying to calm himself. "It's only that I have quite enough going on already, and all you've been doing for the past week is adding to it."  
  
"Harry, we're only -" Hermione began, but Harry cut her off.  
  
"I know you're trying to help. Everyone's always trying to help. Just lay off a bit, won't you?" Harry could not keep the annoyance out of his voice, and before anyone could say another word, he strode out of the Great Hall, oblivious to the concerned looks coming from his friends and from the teacher's table.  
  
If Kingsley noticed Harry's dark mood that afternoon, he didn't comment on it. He and Dumbledore had talked, and they had agreed that the best primary testing ground for Harry's abilities at wandless magic would be their dueling classes. Before he did anything else, Kingsley planned on pushing Harry to his very limit in hopes that Harry's power would manifest itself in an environment in which they could discuss the effects and begin to work on controlling the magic.  
  
"Are you ready, Harry?" Kingsley asked without preamble.  
  
Harry was a bit taken aback. Although the Auror was always incredibly businesslike, he usually at least greeted Harry at the beginning of the lesson, and since Harry knew that the Order knew the prophecy, he had half expected Kingsley to want to talk about it. He didn't press the issue though, and nodded curtly as he stowed his book bag in the corner of the room. He wasn't in the mood to chat, anyway, and he raised his wand in readiness.  
  
"Harry, I believe we will conduct this lesson entirely without your wand," Kingsley said, and Harry did not question him. Kingsley was extremely adamant that he learn how to defend himself without magic, and the order to stow his wand was not unusual, even if Harry was getting a bit tired of it. As usual, Harry set his wand on the edge of one of the tables for safekeeping and stood in front of his instructor, ready to dodge the jinxes that he knew were coming.  
  
Kingsley was as relentless with Harry as he was with his Aurors-in-training, and he could see Harry tiring after an hour of hard work. The boy had improved beyond Kingsley's expectations, and he had been able on more than one occasion to successfully dodge five full minutes worth of spells in quick succession, all without the use of his wand.  
  
For their final round, Kingsley decided that it was time to use a tactic that he generally only used in the final Auror practicals. As Harry rose to his feet after being reawakened from the Auror's stunner, he was not given the usual time to rest.  
  
This time, after Harry became too exhausted to dodge properly, Kingsley did not use a stunner to end the round. Instead, he shot minor jinxes that brought down Harry's physical ability, hitting him in quick succession with both the Tarantellegra jinx and the Jelly-Legs jinx so that Harry was reduced to trying to roll back and forth on the floor, his legs too weak to hold him and dancing madly in the air as he moved. To his credit, Harry did the best that he could, but if he had any hope of success, he needed his wand.  
  
"Stop already, Kingsley!" Harry hollered in frustration after his body slammed into a wall from a moderately strong banishing curse. "You win, alright?"  
  
"You want me to stop, Harry?" Kingsley said, his voice calm but louder than usual. "Then stop me yourself. Get your wand!"  
  
"I can't!" Harry shouted.  
  
"Oh, can't you?" Kingsley responded as he threw a _locomotor mortis_ hex on Harry, which, combined with the Tarantellegra jinx that had still not been lifted, produced the effect of giving Harry's legs, now stiff as boards and snapped tightly together, the weird appearance of a severe lower-body seizure. "I told you to keep your wand in your pocket, not leave it lying away from you on a table!"  
  
"You won't let me use it!" Harry yelled, getting truly angry now. What did these people want from him?  
  
"You have to get to it!" Kingsley responded. "You want your wand? You want to stop me? Then get what you need, Harry!"  
  
Harry felt a surge of power come up from his chest and he shouted the first words he could think of, although he was certain it wouldn't work. " _Accio wand_!" To his complete astonishment, his wand flew from the table across the room into his outstretched hand, and in less than three seconds, he had removed the jinxes from his body and pointed his wand at Kingsley.  
  
" _Expelliarmus_!" he shouted to the astounded Auror, and for the first time, Kingsley's wand flew out of his hand. Harry had won the round.


	26. Progress All Around

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Harry progresses into an area of magic far above what he ever thought he could manage, all of his teachers realize that the time has come for him to remind himself what he is fighting for...and in a fateful walk around the lake, Ginny Weasley sets out to do just that.

Kingsley, finally satisfied that Harry could dodge as well as any Auror and better than some, allowed Harry to use his wand in practice about half the time, teaching him some of the more complex defensive spells, and practiced wandless magic with him the other half, which was proving to be the most difficult thing Harry had ever tried. Harry finally lost his temper in their session on Halloween after he had been hit by a powerful Impediment Jinx for the fourth time in a row, having been unsuccessful in his attempts to cast a shield charm without his wand.

"Give me a break, why don't you?" Harry said bitterly to Kingsley.

"No, Harry," Kingsley responded seriously. "You have the necessary power to duel wandlessly, and I am here to teach you how to do it."

"Let's see you do it, then!" Harry retorted.

"I cannot," Kingsley answered.

"What do you mean you can't?" Harry asked, confused.

"Harry, understand that the ability to perform focused magic without a wand is very rare. Few wizards are able to accomplish it, and I am not one of those few."

This admission stopped Harry's protests as effectively as if he'd been hit with a silencing charm. If Kingsley, one of the most senior Aurors in the Ministry of Magic and the most effective dueler that Harry had ever encountered, could not duel wandlessly then how could they expect him to be able to do it? When he asked Kingsley this question, however, the Auror had assured him that he did indeed carry this ability.

"Harry, if I had any doubts as to your abilities, they were erased in the few times I have seen you manage wandless magic. I do note, however, that so far you have only been able to do so when you are feeling a powerful emotion, or when you are feeling desperate. That is what I seek to change – I want you to learn to harness your power in a way that will allow you to perform magic wandlessly with little more effort than you would expend if you used your wand."

"How?" Harry asked, once again overwhelmed with all of the expectations that had been placed upon him. Until this point, Kingsley had goaded him into performing wandless magic by pushing him to his very limits, until Harry became angry enough or desperate enough to call upon his deepest reserves. He had only managed simple spells even then – usually summoning charms to allow him to get his wand, and once, a banishing charm that had sent one of the stacked tables flying into the far wall of their classroom.

Kingsley sighed, and moved to their small table in the corner of the room, motioning Harry to follow him. He had planned to move into this area of study today, but he suddenly wondered if Dumbledore, one of the few wizards who could perform wandless magic, would be better suited for teaching Harry. Dumbledore, however, had insisted that the work on Legilimency was too important to abandon, and had offered Kingsley a few pointers in Harry's education.

As Harry sat down, Kingsley removed a small wooden eggcup from his pocket to use as a lightweight object on which to practice. He set it in the center of the table and focused on his student.

"Harry, how do you perform magic with a wand?" Kingsley asked.

Harry stared at him. "Er, you say the incantation and focus your intent on your wand as you wave it," he said uncertainly. The truth was, even in all his classes, he had never paid much attention to how his magic got from his mind into his wand.

"It's hard to explain, is it not?" Kingsley asked. "Most wizards never think about the focus of their magic on their wands – but that is exactly what you must do if you are to accomplish your goal."

"Where do I focus, then, if not my wand?" Harry asked.

"My suggestion would be the tips of your fingers," Kingsley answered. "Or even the tip of one finger at first. From what I have heard, you have to attune yourself to your magic in a way that many wizards are unable to do. You have to be able to feel your power coursing through your body, and direct it to your hands rather than to your wand."

Harry nodded. He actually understood what Kingsley meant – during the times he had been able to perform wandless magic, he had been able to feel a power, rather like electricity, coursing through his chest and then his arms.

"Harry, I believe I am correct in saying that you have learned several meditation techniques in your Occlumency sessions with Dumbledore?" Kingsley asked.

Harry nodded again. These meditation exercises had been the reason that he had been able to keep many of his nightmares at bay since he had come to school.

"All right," Kingsley continued in his deep voice. "I would like you to close your eyes and concentrate for a moment. See if you can bring yourself to a level at which you can feel your magical energy."

"My magical energy?" Harry asked blankly.

"Every wizard has it, Harry. It is why we are able to perform magic. The difference between you and others is that you seem to have the ability to direct yours with less effort than most."

Harry didn't agree that he was any better at directing his magic than anyone else, but he resolved to try. He closed his eyes, shutting out everything but the beating of his own heart, just as Dumbledore had taught him to do. It did not take long before Harry felt a small crackle of the "magical energy" Kingsley had described, and, his eyes still shut tightly, he tried to push the feeling from his stomach into his hands, and then through his fingertips.

Kingsley watched Harry closely, seeing his face relax as he settled into a meditative state, and then tense with concentration. Suddenly, Harry's right hand twitched slightly, and the eggcup wobbled, seemingly of its own accord. Harry opened his eyes to see Kingsley nodding at him.

"Excellent work, Harry," the Auror said.

"But I didn't do anything," Harry protested.

"You did, Harry – even though the amount of energy you summoned was small, it was enough to move the eggcup slightly, and you did it without having been provoked. Would you like to try it again?"

Harry nodded. Finally, they seemed to be getting somewhere, even though he could not quite see why making an eggcup wobble was such a big accomplishment. Hadn't he sent a table flying just the other day?

"This time, don't close your eyes. Whatever you found within yourself last time, find it again," Kingsley prompted. "Use an incantation if you would like to."

Harry concentrated on the eggcup, searching for the small spark he had felt during his meditation. When he found it, he directed it into his hands, noting that it already seemed easier to accomplish.

" _Reducto_!" he said intensely, and grinned when he saw a crack run the entire length of the eggcup. He may not have reduced it to small bits as he had planned, but he had at least produced a noticeable result.

"Excellent, Harry," Kingsley congratulated him, keeping his astonishment in careful check. He had not expected his student to catch on so quickly and he found himself wondering, not for the first time, exactly how much power was contained within this boy. "Now, as you have seen fit to damage our practice object, I would like you to repair it."

Harry concentrated hard before muttering " _Reparo_!" as he waved his hand slightly towards the eggcup. To his delight and Kingsley's carefully concealed amazement, the crack in the eggcup vanished, leaving it looking as good as new.

Kingsley took the eggcup off the table and replaced it in his pocket, having decided that he wanted to discuss Harry's progress with Dumbledore before they continued. "I think we will leave it here for today, Harry," he said calmly. "It's Halloween, and I daresay that you might enjoy spending some time with your friends tonight."

Harry shrugged. Halloween or not, he doubted that he would have any more free time tonight than he did any other night.

"I mean it, Harry," Kingsley said. "You've earned a break, and I want you to take tonight off. I release you from your assignment of working on your dueling until Monday, and I believe Tonks gave her classes the weekend free from physical training as well."

Harry nodded. What he did not know was that, on Remus's insistence, Dumbledore, Kingsley, and Tonks had conferred and realized that Harry needed a break. If he kept going at the current pace and had no time to at least try to be a normal teenager, he would lose sight of what he was fighting for. Remus had been rather alarmed with Harry's messages over the past couple of weeks, thinking correctly that the boy sounded exhausted and at the end of his ropes, and the others had agreed with no argument.

"Go and have a good night, Harry," Kingsley said. "Spend some time with Ginny – I daresay that is a bit overdue." He grinned slightly.

Harry was a bit taken aback by this sudden attempt at levity from the Auror, but he smiled back and nodded at him before gathering his things and leaving the classroom over an hour earlier than usual.

* * *

  
Harry arrived in the deserted common room some time before anyone else had been released from class, and he had to admit that his heart felt lighter than usual at the prospect of a weekend without dueling practice or long runs around the grounds. He would still have to do his homework, and there was a Quidditch practice scheduled for the following afternoon, but he thought that he might actually be able to act like a normal student, if only for a couple of days.

Harry decided to use the time alone to his advantage, and by the time the others had come back from classes to get ready for the Halloween feast, he had showered and dressed in a clean set of robes. He felt refreshed, and for once, cheerful. The only thing that bothered him was that, for the past couple of days, his scar had prickled more than usual, but he had kept his Occlumency shield up and reminded himself that irritation with his scar was hardly abnormal. Even though he hadn't had dreams or been attacked lately, it still twinged almost constantly. This was only a little worse, and he supposed that Voldemort must be feeling some kind of powerful emotion that Harry was alerted to through their connection.

He shrugged off all thoughts of this as Ginny arrived from her Care of Magical Creatures class, her cheeks pink from the cool air and her hair slightly mussed from the breeze. Finding Harry sitting comfortably in his favorite place by the fire, rereading Quidditch Through the Ages for the umpteenth time, she went straight to him and pulled him up into an embrace, kissing him softly.

"Hi," Harry said, smiling at her.

"Hi yourself," she responded, and kissed him again.

"Oi!" said an indignant voice from the portrait hole. "Can't you two be decent?" Ron entered the common room, looking a bit disgruntled at finding his sister and his best mate embracing in front of the fire.

"Oh, Ron," Ginny said, sighing and throwing him an impatient look. "If you think this is indecent, I feel sorry for Hermione."

Ron flushed and muttered, "Just because you two are dating doesn't mean I want to see you snogging him, Ginny."

Ginny rolled her eyes. "This is hardly snogging, Ron, but I would be happy to show you what snogging is if you want me to."

"Ginny!" Harry exclaimed, flushing with embarrassment.

"Come on, Harry. If Ron doesn't want to see us together, what say we go for a stroll around the grounds before the feast? We have a couple of hours," Ginny said, grinning wickedly at her brother, who shot Harry a warning glance.

"That sounds great!" Harry replied enthusiastically, avoiding Ron's gaze. The truth was, he had barely had time to see much of Ginny over the past month, and he was afraid she was becoming a bit put out with all of his obligations, although she bore it silently and without recrimination.

"I'm just going to go and freshen up a bit," Ginny said loftily, leaving Harry and Ron staring awkwardly at each other.

"Er, Ron?" Harry said. "You don't mind, do you mate? Only Tonks and Kingsley both gave us the night off from practice, and I haven't really had time to spend with Ginny lately..."

Ron sighed. As much as he loved both his sister and his best mate, he couldn't help but be a little uncomfortable with their relationship. He knew that Harry was not the first person Ginny had dated, but this was really the first time that he'd really had to see her with someone, and it was definitely weird. "No, it's all right," he answered with difficulty. "Hermione and I were planning on spending some time together tonight, anyway...just..."

"Just what?" Harry asked.

"Just, er, be a gentleman, okay?" Ron finished quickly, his ears flaming.

Harry would have laughed but for the uncomfortable look on Ron's face. He wondered if Ron had been given the same admonition by Mrs. Weasley regarding Hermione, and guessed rightly that he had. "Okay, Ron," Harry said as seriously as he could manage. He knew his best friend was a little uneasy about his relationship with Ginny, and he and Ginny had both agreed to try to be as sensitive as possible, if for no other reason than to avoid the fights that could ensue if they weren't. All of Ginny's older brothers were extremely protective of her.

At that moment, Hermione entered the common room, looking harried, with Seamus following closely behind her. Seamus ignored both Ron and Harry as he had been doing ever since the Quidditch tryouts, and Hermione heaved her book bag onto a table with a sigh. "You wouldn't believe the amount of homework we've got for Ancient Runes," she groaned, and Harry and Ron grinned, knowing that she actually enjoyed the work once she started on it.

"Don't you even think about starting it tonight, Hermione," Harry said firmly. "We're all taking the night off."

"Harry, what about dueling practice?" Hermione asked. "I thought that after the feast, we could go – "

"No way, Hermione," Ginny said, coming up behind them, her face freshly scrubbed and her hair pulled back into a plait. "Harry and I have a date tonight, and so do you and Ron, if I'm not mistaken."

"Yes, well," Hermione replied, looking serious. "We've still got a lot to work on."

"Maybe Hermione's right," Ron said, suddenly looking doubtful. "We should probably still take a run, and then do dueling practice..."

"And then, Harry, there's a fascinating chapter I read in Defense for the Defenseless that I want you to go over. There's a new spell – "

"Hermione, Ron," Harry began firmly, "Not tonight. I'll do my homework and go to Quidditch practice, but that's it until Monday."

Hermione looked scandalized. "Until _Monday_? Harry, that's too much time. We need to work!"

Harry felt his temper begin to boil. All he wanted was to spend some time with his girlfriend. Why was that so much to ask?

"Look, you two," he said, glaring at the both of them. "Just because some stupid prophecy says that I have to duel with bloody sodding Voldemort sometime in the future does not mean that I have to give my entire life up to it until then. I'll do my part, all right? I'll duel him, and I'll do my best to win so that all of you can be safe. But this weekend, I just want some bloody time off!" His voice rose in volume even as he tried to remain calm.

Tears of hurt filled Hermione's eyes. "Harry," she whispered. "We're not trying to do this so that you can save all of us."

"No, mate," Ron agreed, looking as hurt as Hermione. "We just want..." his voice trailed off uncertainly.

"We just want you to survive, Harry," Hermione finished for him. "We're afraid, and this is the only way we know how to help you. We can't just do _nothing_."

Harry's temper dissolved as quickly as it had crept up on him. He knew that Ron and Hermione were pushing themselves as hard as they were pushing him. "I'm sorry," he said honestly, and he felt Ginny put her hand on his arm. She knew how frustrated and overwhelmed he had been feeling, and she knew that guilt for his outburst was already beginning to creep into his mind. Harry continued, "It's just that you two aren't the only ones pushing me this year. I've got Dumbledore, and Kingsley, and Tonks...I'm just worn out, that’s all, and I'm looking forward to having a bit of a break. Kingsley said I didn't have to practice this weekend."

"Kingsley said so?" Hermione said, her expression clearing a bit.

"Yes," Harry answered.

"Besides," Ginny broke in, "Harry hasn't been paying me nearly enough attention lately. It's high time he did, or I might just have to find another boyfriend."

Harry looked at her, horrified, but was relieved to see the teasing glint in her eyes.

"So," Ginny continued. "Are we all agreed that Harry gets the weekend off?"

Ron and Hermione nodded, and Harry had a sudden idea. "Hang on, Ginny," he said, and he ran back up to his dormitory with no further explanation.

As they watched him leave, Hermione said to Ginny, "You already knew how he was feeling, didn't you? Why didn't you tell us?"

Ginny shrugged. "I know that Harry has to train and has to get ready for his battle. You two really are helping him, but he does need a break sometimes, and so do we."

Hermione nodded, and then said, "I don't know how you can think that you don't understand Harry as well as we do, Ginny. You already understand him even better, I think." Ron nodded in agreement.

Ginny shrugged again, smiling a bit. She had begun to realize as she and Harry drew closer that she did understand him better than she had thought. She had, after all, been watching him from afar during her entire time at school, and now he was letting her past his defenses more than he ever had before. Her smile broadened into a fond grin as her boyfriend came back down the stairs, his hair as unruly as ever, hiding something underneath his robes. She was glad they were finally getting a chance to have some time to themselves.

* * *

  
"Harry, what – " Ginny asked in surprise as Harry, who had been leading her down the marble staircase towards the entrance hall, suddenly pulled her onto the fourth floor landing, down a corridor, and behind a tapestry.

"Shh...close your eyes," Harry said mysteriously, and Ginny did, wondering what in the world they were doing behind that tapestry. In a moment, she felt a cool cloth settle down over her body, and then Harry standing close next to her, one arm wrapped tightly around her waist.

"Harry, are we under your invisibility cloak?" Ginny asked, giggling as she opened her eyes. They were not out past curfew or breaking any school rules, so she could not imagine why he would feel that they needed it.

"Yep," Harry whispered, reaching out to push the tapestry back and guiding Ginny slowly back to the staircase.

"Why?" Ginny asked quietly.

"Later," Harry advised, placing his finger over her lips. They walked in silence, their bodies pressed together and the cloak wrapped completely around them. Even though Ginny was entirely clueless as to why they were doing this, she had to admit that she found that she quite liked the physical closeness that was necessary if they were both to remain covered by the cloak, and she relished the fact that they were walking through the entrance hall at five in the afternoon, but no one could see them.

They stayed quiet as Harry led her around to the tree by the lake, the same tree in front of which she had told him off at the beginning of term. He pulled her down to sit next to him, carefully keeping the cloak around them as they settled themselves comfortably on the cool earth.

"Harry, why are we under your invisibility cloak?" Ginny asked finally. "Please tell me you're not going to start wearing this thing all the time...Mum told you to be careful, not paranoid."

Harry laughed. "No, that's not it. It's actually something Moony told me. When my dad and mum were dating, Sirius used to follow them around, waiting for a chance to prank them. So, one night, my dad decided that he and mum should go out under the invisibility cloak so no one could see them and they wouldn't be bothered." Harry colored suddenly as he realized how this must sound, and he didn't want Ginny to think that he was trying to...er...not be a gentleman.

Ginny giggled. With all the attention Harry had been getting from Ron and Hermione, not to mention the D.A. members, the professors, and the Order, she could hardly blame him for wanting to hide, and she thought it would be nice to spend some time with him without the inevitable interruptions that apparently went hand-in-hand with dating the Boy-Who-Lived.

"All right, Harry," she said, leaning back into his chest as though settling in. "What do you want to do, then?"

"Er," Harry said, wishing he had planned this a bit better. Now that he and Ginny had successfully avoided any prying eyes, questions, or distractions, he was quite unsure of what he should do next. "I guess we could talk..." Ginny was so close that he swore he could feel her heartbeat on his chest, and the feeling it gave him was at once wonderful and terrifying.

"I think we've done far too much talking lately, Harry," Ginny said in a voice that he barely recognized, and before he could really process what she had meant by this surprising statement, Ginny turned so that she was facing him and kissed him more passionately than she had ever done before.

Harry's breath came in gasps as he returned the kiss, shyly at first, but then with more abandon as time passed. He was not aware of the several students that passed them on the path around the lake, all of whom wondered at the strange rustling noises that were coming from the area under the tree. He was not aware of the painful twinge of his scar, and he did not think of the war, or of Ron and Hermione, or of wandless magic or Legilimency – all he could think about was the feel of her body pressed so close to his, the softness of her lips, the smell of her hair...he was living nowhere but in the moments that passed under the tree by the lake, so close and yet so far away from the world around them.

As their kiss grew more heated, Ginny's hands caressed Harry's back and ran through his hair. He responded in kind, holding her as if he never wanted to let go.

As the sky darkened, Ginny broke off with one last, lingering kiss, and leaned her head against his chest, noticing how muscular he had become over the past two months. She and Harry were both breathing quite heavily as they tried to recover sufficiently to go inside for the Halloween feast, which would start in less than half an hour. They sat in relative silence for a few moments, and then Ginny turned once more to Harry.

"Harry," she said hesitantly. "I wanted you to know...that...well...I love you, Harry." She said the words so softly that he could barely hear her, but even if she had not said it, Harry could have seen it in her eyes if he had known what to look for. He had never heard those words uttered directly to him before, and he stared at her, too stunned to even smile for a moment.

"You don't have to say anything," Ginny said quickly, afraid that she had frightened him. "I just...well, I had to tell you. I've wanted to tell you for so long, but I was afraid..."

"What were you afraid of, Ginny?" Harry asked, but to his great confusion, she didn't answer, just continued to look into his eyes, searching for something. Harry didn't know this, but it was the first time she had said those words to someone outside of her own family, and her heart was in a turmoil of emotions as she waited for his response.

After a few moments passed in awkward silence, Harry finally whispered the words, feeling the emotion spreading inside of him more powerfully than the most potent magic. "I love you, too."

* * *

  
After making sure that there was no one near them, Harry and Ginny removed the Invisibility Cloak before beginning the walk back to the castle for the Halloween feast. They were both grinning harder than either had ever grinned before, and they held hands as they always did, but the grip was somehow tighter than usual. Before they entered the castle, however, Ginny suddenly pulled Harry to the side.

"Harry, you look a fright!" she exclaimed suddenly, fussing over his hair and his robes in a rather motherly fashion. "If we walk into the Great Hall like this, everyone will know exactly what we've been up to!"

Harry suddenly thought of Ron as he noticed that Ginny, too, looked quite disheveled. He knew there would be hell to pay if Ron saw them like this, no matter how many times he and Hermione had been seen in the same state. He teasingly pulled Ginny's hair out of its ponytail and smoothed it awkwardly with his hands until she gently slapped him away, put her hair back up, and fixed her own robes. Surveying each other critically, they decided that they were sufficiently put-together, and they joined hands again and walked into the Great Hall.

To Harry, the Halloween feast was the best that had ever been held at the school – the food seemed to taste better, and the formation gliding of the ghosts suddenly appeared more entertaining than it had ever been before. After eating a huge meal, Harry sat back contentedly, thinking of going back to the common room to spend some more time with Ginny, when he suddenly grabbed his forehead as his scar gave a jolt of pain.

"What is it, mate?" asked Ron worriedly. He seemed to be the only person who had noticed Harry's sudden movement, as Ginny and Hermione were in deep conversation and Seamus was pointedly keeping Dean's attentions away from his roommates, trying to make it as obvious as possible that he still had not forgiven them for picking Ginny and Meg as the Gryffindor chasers.

"Nothing," Harry whispered furiously. "Just my scar. It happens all the time."

Ron looked at him skeptically. Harry's scar did not seem to bother him much anymore, and they had all supposed it was because of his Occlumency shield, which, as Dumbledore predicted, Harry was able to keep up nearly all the time now without consciously thinking about it.

"Are you sure, Harry?" Ron asked, still looking worried.

"Sure about what?" Hermione asked, breaking off her comment to Ginny mid-sentence.

"Harry's scar's hurting," Ron explained, and Harry glared at him furiously. This had been one of the best nights of his life, and he was not about to have it be ruined by an argument about his stupid scar.

Hermione and Ginny both looked alarmed, much to Harry's annoyance. "My scar has hurt on and off ever since the end of fourth year," he said, trying to keep his irritation out of his voice. "It's nothing, okay? Just forget about it." Just as he said it, the scar on his forehead throbbed painfully again, but he resisted rubbing it.

Ginny looked at him closely, and then said to the others, "If Harry says it's okay, then it's okay," she said simply. Harry smiled at her gratefully, and she winked at him and turned once again to Hermione, pulling her back into their previous conversation, although Harry noticed that it contained much less giggling than it had before it had been interrupted.

The look that had passed between Harry and Ginny was not lost on Ron, who had been watching both of them carefully ever since they began dating. "Harry," he asked in a fiercer tone than he had intended, "What happened with you and Ginny today?"

"Er, nothing," Harry said, trying to look innocent.

"You lying prat," Ron said half-jokingly. "Anyone can see that something's different between you two."

"We just went for a walk," Harry said, trying to shrug it off and ignoring the throbbing of his scar once again.

"Hermione and I didn't see you two anywhere on the grounds," Ron noted, narrowing his eyes suspiciously. "We were out there walking, too."

"Oh, like you and Hermione would notice anything when you're on one of your walks together," Harry retorted, trying to grin at his friend.

Ron flushed. He had to admit that Harry had a point. Still, the two boys were rather awkward with one another as the feast ended and they headed back into the common room, where they passed the evening pleasantly enough, playing Exploding Snap and laughing a little too raucously when Dennis Creevey, who had apparently been the butt of one of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, turned into a large canary a little before midnight.

After Dennis had molted and returned to normal, Hermione told off Dean Thomas and Neville Longbottom and then declared that she was tired and was ready to turn in. Ron, Ginny, and Harry all agreed, and as Harry pulled on his pajamas in the dormitories and closed the hangings around his bed, he had to admit that, scar or not, this had been one of the best days of his life.

* * *

  
In a small village south of London, the stars twinkled peacefully in the cool fall sky as the townspeople, mostly farmers and small merchants, slept peacefully, not knowing of the danger that lurked just outside of their doors.

Throughout the narrow, cobbled streets, men in black robes and white masks set themselves strategically in front of certain houses, houses which contained people with certain secrets, people with ties to Diagon Alley, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and the Ministry of Magic.

The silence of the peaceful town was broken suddenly by a loud, shrill female voice calling " _Morsmordre_!" The few villagers that remained awake, consisting only of three teenagers and a farmer who was concerned about an early freeze, screamed in unison as a terrifying sight appeared in the clear sky – a giant skull made of a chilling green light.

The inhabitants of the Wizarding houses in this village rushed out of their homes, wands at the ready, dressing gowns and nightcaps flying haphazardly as they faced what they had feared ever since the article in the _Daily Prophet_ had been published six months before.

Terrified Muggles ran for cover as spells began flying through the streets, but they could do little to stop the masked Death Eaters from entering their homes. There were a total of six Wizarding families in this village, which was far more than normal, and which was also the reason that the Death Eaters had chosen it for the attack. Most of the magical inhabitants of the town were viewed merely as eccentric by the townsfolk, and had generally been accepted into the fold without question. Now, the horrified Muggles feared their neighbors as much as they feared the strange men in masks who had come to attack. The scene was one of mass confusion as men came out the doors of their homes, holding shotguns or pitchforks or any other weapons they could lay their hands on at this late hour, boldly advanced, and then ran for the closest cover they could find when they saw what was happening.

Hestia Jones lived at the end of the village proper and was the last of the witches and wizards to hear the commotion outside. She and her husband came out at once, brandishing their wands, but they found themselves immediately surrounded. Out of the ten Death Eaters in their front garden, the Joneses managed to stun four before they and their three young children were struck down by killing curses.

When it was finally over, the bodies of each and every wizard inhabitant of the town littered the streets, mingled with those of six Muggles and only one Death Eater, who was quickly removed before the Aurors arrived, too late to do anything but try to clear the damage.

* * *

  
Over two hundred miles away, Ron shook Harry furiously, desperate to stop the anguished yells that had awoken everyone in their dormitory at half-past two on the morning of November first. When Harry finally opened his emerald green eyes, he did not recognize Ron straight off and grabbed his wand from the nightstand, holding it against Ron's throat.

"Harry!" Neville said loudly, as Ron had gone pale, his eyes wide with disbelief. "Harry! It's us! Put your wand down before you hurt Ron!"

Harry blinked as the nightmare receded, and he dropped his wand in horror. Ron didn't move.

"I have to see Professor Dumbledore," Harry said loudly, trying to get Ron's attention.

Ron glared at Harry, any remaining sleepiness long gone. "You had your wand pointed at me, Harry!" he said furiously.

Harry's voice softened a bit – the fact that he had almost attacked Ron scared him more than anything he had seen in his nightmare – and he said, "Ron, mate, I'm sorry...there's been a battle...people are dead, and I was right there in the middle of it. I wasn't awake yet. Ron, we have to go do Dumbledore. Please. We have to go now."

Ron seemed to accept Harry's apology, and without another word, he went to his trunk to pull on his dressing gown. As Harry did the same, he heard Seamus muttering angrily to Dean, "Didn't apologize to us, did he? Potter has a nightmare and it's straight to the Headmaster, isn't it?"

It seemed that those words were all Ron needed to forget what had happened as Harry woke up. He rounded furiously on Seamus as he finished dressing and said viciously, "What was that, Finnegan? You think Harry owes you an apology?"

"So what if I do?" Seamus retorted, jumping back out of his bed and advancing on Ron. "Only this isn't the first time that prat has woken us all up in the middle of the night, is it?"

Perhaps it was the similarity of those words to what Harry had recounted from the beginning of the summer when he had woken the Dursleys, or perhaps it was pent-up rage over Seamus' attitude about the Quidditch team, or perhaps it was lack of sleep...but whatever it was, it seemed that Ron had finally had enough. Crossing the distance between himself and Seamus quickly, Ron pulled himself up to full height and shoved Seamus hard in the chest.

Harry pulled Ron back before Seamus could retaliate, saying urgently, "Ron, I need you to come with me, now! Something's happened, and we've got to go talk to Dumbledore. Come on!"

Harry and Ron rushed out of the dormitories, ignoring Seamus's rather rude exclamation as they headed down the staircase and out of the portrait hole.


	27. Reward to the Faithful

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Though Voldemort can no longer intentionally break into Harry's mind, that does not stop the connection from forming at times of high emotion, and Harry begins to witness scenes of unimaginable horror as the war escalates.

Harry and Ron ran at top speed to Dumbledore's office, not caring that it was nearly three in the morning and not worrying about whether they would be caught out of bed. Harry was desperate to tell the Headmaster what had happened, even though he knew it was too late to save any of the people of the village. Ron, for his part, did not really know what had happened, but the fact that Harry had nearly attacked him when he woke up alerted him to the seriousness of the situation, even though his shock had not yet completely worn off.  
  
When they reached the Headmaster's office, Harry gasped out the password; he was accustomed to running after all the training he had done as part of Tonks’s class, but combining the tearing dash through the corridors with his near panic, he found himself quite out of breath. They did not wait for the slow ascent of the spiral staircase, but took the steps two at a time and pounded furiously on the door when they reached the top.  
  
"Come in, Harry," the Headmaster greeted them from inside the office, and Harry and Ron exchanged a quick glance as they opened the door. How had Dumbledore known Harry was coming?  
  
"I am not surprised to see you, Harry," Dumbledore said gravely, motioning towards the two chairs in front of his desk. "And Mr. Weasley, of course. I am glad you are here as well."  
  
"Professor Dumbledore," Harry began quickly, not wanting to bother with the niceties, "there's been an attack –”  
  
Dumbledore raised his hand to silence Harry, and regarded him for a moment over his half-moon glasses before saying, "I was made aware of it, Harry, just a moment ago."  
  
Harry noticed that Professor Dumbledore was fully dressed in dark blue robes with silver moons embroidered on them, and he wondered whether the Headmaster ever slept. "How did you know?" he asked, his voice slightly hollow as the details of the dream resurfaced in his mind.  
  
Dumbledore sighed heavily. "Hestia Jones alerted Auror Headquarters as soon as she heard the attack began, and Kingsley, in turn, notified me. I am afraid that they arrived too late, however. Harry, am I correct in assuming you saw the attack?"  
  
Harry nodded and Ron broke in, his voice worried. "Harry's scar was hurting earlier today. But, Harry, I thought that your Occlumency kept you from having visions like this."  
  
"The link between Harry and Voldemort is very complex, Mr. Weasley," Dumbledore said before turning back to Harry. "How did you see this attack?"  
  
"I was dreaming," Harry said confusedly. "Just like always."  
  
"No, Harry, what I meant to ask is whether you saw the attack through Voldemort's eyes and whether or not you felt his emotions while it was happening."  
  
Harry screwed up his face, concentrating on his dream, but he could not remember feeling any particular emotion as he had watched the attack. His emotions had not come into play until he had woken up and the horror of what he had witnessed had set in. "I don't know whether or not I was seeing through his eyes, sir," Harry said in frustration.  
  
Dumbledore's glance flicked to Ron and then back to Harry. "Would you mind?" he asked softly.  
  
Harry looked over at Ron, who had a confused look on his face, before nodding almost imperceptibly. "All right, sir," he answered softly, and he let his Occlumency shield down for the first time in weeks.  
  
Ron looked on in amazement as Dumbledore looked intently into Harry's eyes, and no one spoke for a few moments. After the Headmaster had settled back into his chair, Ron began, "What..."  
  
"I have just looked into Harry's memories of the attack, Mr. Weasley," Dumbledore explained. "Harry, please be so kind as to put your shields back into place. Now is not a good time for you to be vulnerable."  
  
Harry nodded, and Ron watched with a look of dawning comprehension as he saw an expression of intense concentration pass over Harry's face and then vanish a moment later. He understood now that Harry had allowed Professor Dumbledore into his mind, but he was amazed that Dumbledore had to ask Harry to take his shields down to do it. Had Harry grown so advanced in Occlumency that he could block even the Headmaster?  
  
"What do you think, Professor?" Harry asked after he had rebuilt his shield.  
  
"I believe you did see the attack through Voldemort's eyes, Harry," Dumbledore replied simply. "However, now that your Occlumency shield has grown powerful enough to block intentional attacks, I believe that you have also become able to keep your mind separate from Voldemort's. You may be taken involuntarily into his mind due to your connection with him, but you no longer lose your sense of yourself. This is good news, Harry."  
  
Harry gulped slightly before he asked, "And, Professor, what I saw...did it all happen? Hestia Jones and her family..."  
  
"Yes, Harry," Dumbledore answered, even though he knew perfectly well that Harry knew what he had seen was accurate. Sadness weighed his voice as he continued, "Hestia Jones and her family did not survive the attack, nor did any of the other wizarding families in her village, and several Muggles were killed as well." He spoke bluntly, knowing that Harry was well past the time at which events could be kept from him.  
  
Harry looked down. Hestia had been a member of the Order and had been part of his Advance Guard when he had left the Dursleys the summer before his fifth year. The list of Order members killed in the line of duty had grown to three: Sirius Black, Arabella Figg, and now, Hestia Jones; the list of wizards and Muggles killed was becoming longer by the day. He knew he was not ready for the final battle yet, but he felt the same flare of anger and cold determination that he had felt after Mrs. Figg's death.  
  
"Harry, do not let your anger rule you," Dumbledore said quietly, and Harry looked up at the Headmaster, his eyes hard and unyielding.  
  
"How can I not be angry, sir?" Harry asked fiercely, and Ron looked at him in shock that he would dare to speak to Dumbledore in that tone of voice.  
  
Dumbledore closed his eyes for a moment, remembering another dark-haired student from more than fifty years before. He had failed Tom Riddle, but he would not repeat his mistake with this boy sitting in front of him with such rage in his eyes. "Anger is a perfectly justifiable and normal human emotion, Harry. I do not ask that you not be angry. I ask simply that you do not let it rule your life. Remember to love, Harry, above all else."  
  
Harry did not respond right away, and Ron watched the entire scene with amazement. He had not had occasion to witness the new relationship between Dumbledore and Harry, and he was quite taken aback by their openness. This was definitely a new development.  
  
"It's escalating, isn't it?" Harry asked finally. "He went to that village because Hestia was there."  
  
"Yes, Harry, the war will escalate from here. The attack on Mrs. Figg was not widely known because she was a Squib, whereas this attack will be known throughout the wizarding world. That particular village was chosen not only because it was Hestia Jones's home, but because there was a sufficient number of wizarding families to ensure that national notice would be taken."  
  
"You-Know-Who wants us to know where he is now?" Ron finally spoke up.  
  
"Voldemort," Harry began firmly, his determined gaze remaining on Ron as the redheaded boy winced at the name, "wants us to be afraid of him. Fear is his greatest weapon."  
  
"Harry is correct," Dumbledore told Ron, "and as the war escalates, every person who fears Voldemort will only add to his power."  
  
Ron nodded his understanding, but Harry did not have to use Legilimency to see the fear in his best friend's face. As Ron caught his gaze, however, Harry noticed that there was also another emotion flashing dangerously in his eyes: anger. And unless Harry was much mistaken, that anger was not directed towards Voldemort, but towards him.  
  
Dumbledore appeared not to notice the sudden animosity in Ron's expression as he said quietly, "Unless you have any more questions, I believe you will want to return to bed. Harry, please keep me informed if ever your connection with Voldemort alerts you to anything else."  
  
At the Headmaster's dismissal, Ron and Harry stood and Ron headed immediately for the door without looking back. Harry glanced at Dumbledore questioningly, but the older man just smiled sadly and said, "Good night, Harry. I will see you on Tuesday, unless, of course, you need to speak with me before then."  
  
"Good night, Professor," Harry responded politely. Over the course of the term, he had grown used to Dumbledore's attempts to get him to talk, but even though Harry no longer felt any animosity toward the Headmaster, he felt no particular desire to confide in him either.  
  
Ron was waiting at the bottom of the revolving staircase, but said nothing until the two had reached the Grand Staircase when he suddenly stopped and turned to Harry, the tips of his ears glowing pink as they always did when he was angry or under pressure. Harry, though, was unsure why Ron was angry with him. What had he said or done to upset his friend while they had been in Dumbledore's office?  
  
It immediately became apparent that it had not been something he had said; rather, it had been something he had not said. "Why didn't you tell Professor Dumbledore that you attacked me when you woke up?" Ron demanded aggressively.  
  
Harry was startled. He had already apologized and explained himself to Ron, and he had thought his apology had been accepted. Apparently, this was not the case. He opened his mouth to say something, but Ron cut across him.  
  
"I guess the fact that you could have killed me wasn't important, was it?" he spat bitterly.  
  
Harry felt his temper flare. It wasn't as if he had actually _hurt_ Ron, and he was making it sound like Harry had done it intentionally. He felt bad for what had happened, but it wasn't as if he's been talking to Dumbledore about the weather or anything ridiculous like that. "Ron, I saw a battle, not an ice cream social," he retorted as they reached the seventh floor landing. "Hestia and her family are dead, and so are a lot of other people." Harry's heart lurched as he said those words; how many deaths would there be before this was over? Harry tried to calm himself a bit as he added sincerely, "Look, mate, I'm really sorry."  
  
Ron snorted at this, and Harry's temper flared again. "Ron," he said sharply, quite ignoring the Fat Lady, who was glaring sleepily at them as they bickered. "I was there, all right? At the attack. I just stood there, locked inside bloody sodding Voldemort's head, watching it all happen, and then all of a sudden you're shaking me and shouting. It took me a bit to realize what was going on."  
  
It was a sign of how angry Ron was that he didn't even wince as Harry said Voldemort's name. "It's a good thing Neville was there, or you could have bloody well killed me! You should have told Dumbledore, you prat, but Merlin forbid you let anyone know the ruddy Boy-Who-Lived lost control!"  
  
"Don't call me that," Harry hissed furiously.  
  
"Well, it's who you are, isn't it?" the Fat Lady interrupted haughtily. "Now, are you going to give me the password or not?"  
  
Ron and Harry didn't even hear her – they were too busy glaring at one another to notice anything else at the moment. The Fat Lady gave a great sniff, turned, and walked out of the left side of her frame.  
  
"I'll call you whatever I want to call you," Ron said loudly. "Tell me something, then. What if it had been Ginny and no one had been there to stop you? What then, hero?"  
  
"I would never hurt Ginny," Harry retorted.  
  
He found out almost immediately that this had been the wrong thing to say. Just as Harry opened his mouth to say he wouldn't have hurt Ron or anyone else either, Ron began to shout. "So it's quite all right if you nearly blast my head off, is it, but you'd never hurt Ginny! Thanks a lot, mate." Ron paused to take a breath before continuing just as loudly as before, "Next time she can be the one to wake you, then, if you're so sure you wouldn't hurt her –"  
  
"Mr. Weasley!" exclaimed a very angry voice. "You will control yourself! Such behavior!" Minerva McGonagall stormed up the corridor towards them, her lips pressed into a dangerously thin line. As she reached them, Harry saw the Fat Lady reenter her frame, looking smugly at him. He scowled at her. Things were going quite badly enough without the doorway portrait telling their Head of House they had been arguing in the hall.  
  
"Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley," McGonagall said sternly. "Would you be so kind as to tell me why you are standing in the corridor at this hour, shouting at one another?"  
  
Harry willed himself to speak calmly to the deputy Headmistress. "We went to see Professor Dumbledore –"  
  
"I am well aware of where you have been, Mr. Potter, and that is not what I asked you," McGonagall interrupted. "I would like to know why you are shouting." Her tone left no room for protest. Harry stayed silent. Ron had started this, so he could explain it to Professor McGonagall.  
  
"Harry was having a nightmare," Ron said, his voice tightly controlled. "When I woke him up, he grabbed his wand and held it at my throat. He could have killed me!"  
  
"I said I was sorry, Ron! What else do you want me to do?" Harry demanded. The truth was that, as he thought about it, he was horrified that he had actually pointed his wand at Ron. What if he had hurt him?  
  
"I wanted you to tell –" Ron began, his voice once again growing louder.  
  
"That will be quite enough from both of you!" McGonagall interrupted angrily. "Five points from Gryffindor for this disgraceful display! Mr. Weasley, I suggest that, should you find it necessary to wake Mr. Potter in future, you do so from a distance. It is only natural for him to be on the defensive if he has been forced into a battle. Mr. Potter, I will wish to speak to you further about this tomorrow evening. Now, go to bed, and not another word or I shall give you both detentions!" With that, McGonagall turned from them and strode down the hall, her tartan dressing gown flapping behind her.  
  
"Carpe diem," Harry snapped the password at the Fat Lady, who was smirking at them. Neither Harry nor Ron spoke as they returned to the dormitories and pulled the hangings around their beds.  
  
It was at least an hour before Ron's snores alerted Harry to the fact that he was finally asleep. As angry as he was at Ron's attitude and what he considered to be a lack of priorities in the face of Hestia's death and the village battle, Harry knew that he could not risk a repeat of what had happened that night. As soon as he was certain that he would not be overheard, he pointed his own wand at his throat and whispered, " _Silencio_."  
  


* * *

  
Thanks to a front-page article in the _Daily Prophet_ the next morning, the whole school knew of the village battle before breakfast was over. One Ravenclaw second-year had lost an aunt and two cousins that night. For many of the students, this attack brought the war into sharper reality than any other events had done so far. For days, the entire school buzzed with anxious chatter, the students feeling the first hints of fear. Harry and his friends, including Neville and Luna Lovegood, suddenly became the focus of even more attention than usual as people began to ask them questions about the Department of Mysteries battle over half a year before. Harry was in no mood for it. He felt he had quite enough to deal with, especially considering that his row with Ron seemed to be an ongoing thing.  
  
Besides to criticize his technique at Quidditch practice as much as possible, Ron had not spoken to Harry all week, and this was doing nothing for either boy's temper or concentration. Everyone that saw either one of them – teachers, professors, D.A. members, and friends alike – could not help but notice that both of them were running on short fuses and a severe lack of concentration.  
  
Harry had gone, as requested, to speak to Professor McGonagall on Monday after classes, but she didn't have any new information for him. She simply requested that he continue to be diligent in practicing his Occlumency each night before bed, and she suggested that he stow his wand in his night table drawer so that he would have to wake up a bit more fully before he retrieved it. When Harry protested, she reminded him rather sternly that the wards around the school had been set up by Dumbledore himself, and they would know about any intruders far before they got as far as Harry's bed. Harry had nodded, swallowing a retort about Sirius having been able to make it up to the dormitories without detection, but he knew he would no more store his wand out of his immediate reach than he would eat a dinner of fried flobberworms.  
  
Harry continued to cast a silencing charm on himself each night before he went to sleep, feeling safer in the knowledge that if no one could hear him, no one could try to wake him up. As long as Harry remembered to cast the counter-charm each morning before he tried to speak, no one would be the wiser.  
  
Hermione tried her best to stay neutral in the conflict between Harry and Ron, saying only that she was glad Ron had not been hurt, and sympathizing with Harry over what he had been forced to witness. As the week drew on, though, and Ron's anger showed no signs of abating, Harry saw less of both of them, and practiced dueling with Ginny only each night. He was glad to see that, although she was not much of a challenge against him, she herself was improving rapidly.  
  
Harry could not understand why Ron was still not speaking to him – he had thought that once Ron had had some time to think, he would come around to forgiving Harry. By Friday, however, Harry had been driven almost to distraction. He knew now that there must be more to this, but he could not figure out what it was. His classes weren't going well, nor were his Legilimency practices with Dumbledore. He tried as hard as he could, but he could just not muster the concentration required to break through the Headmaster's Occlumency shield. When he wasn't having mental flashbacks to the battle, he was worrying about his friendship with Ron.  
  
Dumbledore, as always, was very patient with Harry, and chose not to dwell on Harry's lack of concentration. He suspected what had caused it, and he hoped that it would resolve itself with time. He had tried to gently press Harry to talk about what he had seen, but the boy remained reticent, and Dumbledore knew that such confidence could not be forced.  
  
Kingsley Shacklebolt, however, was not nearly as forgiving. He had seen what lack of focus could do to a person in battle, and he felt it was his responsibility to make sure that didn't happen to Harry.  
  
He watched critically as Harry raised a flawless shield charm with his wand, still a transparent gold and impervious, Kingsley suspected, to all but the Unforgivable curses. He nodded after his student had deflected or dodged three strong jinxes almost effortlessly. "Excellent, Harry," he said. "Now, have you been practicing your wandless magic as well?"  
  
Harry nodded, but did not mention the fact that he had been mostly unsuccessful even with the simplest of spells this week. His heart just wasn't in it.  
  
"Stow your wand, then," Kingsley requested, and waited while Harry complied, noticing that the boy looked a bit nervous. "Before we progress into today's duel, Harry, we will practice a bit on objects around the room," the Auror continued. "I would like you to begin by levitating that book." He pointed to a heavy defense book on one of the tables.  
  
Harry tried to concentrate, but he knew even before he had said the incantation that it was no good. Neither student nor teacher was surprised when the book did not move.  
  
"That is unacceptable, Harry," Kingsley said, and Harry nodded. "You must have more focus. That spell is one you have known since your first year, and you would have been able to perform it easily if you had been practicing."  
  
Harry opened his mouth to reply, and Kingsley did not know whether the boy was going to argue, or explain himself, or apologize, but he did not let him say even one word before he continued, "There is no excuse for this, and if you are not going to focus, you are wasting my time."  
  
This time, Harry did not try to reply, but closed his eyes and began his meditation exercise. He knew Kingsley was right, and if he could not muster the strength to perform such simple magic, he may as well walk up to the Dark Lord with a target painted over his heart and say, "Here I am, you evil old git. Go ahead and kill me now."  
  
It took Harry several minutes to reach the level of concentration required to locate his magical reserve and bring it under his conscious control, but he was finally able to manage it. He opened his eyes and said, " _Wingardium Leviosa_!" To his immense relief, the book on the desk levitated three feet into the air and floated serenely for as long as Harry held his hand extended.  
  
"That was much better, Harry," Kingsley said.  
  
"But, sir, in battle I won’t have the time to do all of this," Harry said. "What's the point?"  
  
"Harry, you will learn to perform wandless magic with ease in time," Kingsley said. "It takes practice, just as everything else does."  
  
Harry nodded. By the end of the lesson, he had managed to levitate and summon several objects in turn as well as to produce a shield charm, though it was much weaker than the one he could conjure with his wand. As they were packing up, Kingsley advised him to begin practicing wandless magic in his practice duels with his friends, but Harry was not ready to let them know about that particular facet of his training.  
  


* * *

  
After a dinner in which Ginny and Hermione tried fruitlessly to start a conversation involving both Ron and Harry and an evening in the common room silently revising for midterm exams, Harry finally excused himself and went up to the empty dormitory to try and talk to Remus. He hoped that his guardian was wearing his amulet tonight, as he really hoped to have a conversation with him, rather than just leaving him a message.  
  
Harry got his amulet out of his trunk and pulled the hangings around his bed. He held it tightly in his hand and concentrated on contacting Remus. He had found, ironically, that the easiest way for him to make the connection was not to focus directly on Remus, but to imagine dialing a Muggle telephone. Even though the connection was not actually auditory but more of a form of telepathy, Harry thought it was actually quite like its Muggle equivalent.  
  
It seemed that luck was on his side tonight, and Remus greeted Harry when he felt his own amulet grow warm. " _Hello, Harry. How was your week at school_?"  
  
" _Not so great, actually_."  
  
" _Why not_?" Harry could hear the concern in Remus's voice as clearly as if they had been in the same room.  
  
" _Ron and I are still not speaking, and I don't know why_ ," Harry responded. He had talked to Remus the day after the village battle, and he had told him about his falling-out with Ron.  
  
" _Has he said anything more? It doesn't seem like Ron to stay angry for so long after you had already apologized_."  
  
" _No, he won't say anything to me_ ," Harry replied.  
  
" _Harry, friends will have their disagreements. If you have already apologized and shown yourself willing to reconcile, you can only wait until he is ready to do the same. I know how frustrating it is, but he will come around. Sirius and James had rows quite often, actually...and they always made up_."  
  
This actually made Harry feel a bit better. Sirius had been the best man in his parents' wedding, so he knew that their friendship had not been harmed by their bickering. " _But did either one of them ever hold a wand to the other's throat_?"  
  
Remus chuckled. " _Actually, I quite remember a time when they did quite worse than that. Sirius always had the worse temper of the two of them, and your father made one crack too many about Sirius's latest girlfriend. I wasn't there at the time_."  
  
" _What did Sirius do, and how did you know about it if you weren't there_?"  
  
" _Well, I found out about it when I found James floating near the edge of the lake about three hours later. Apparently, Sirius had petrified him and cast a floating charm, then put him out on the water. When he started feeling bad about it, he found me and told me where to find James...he was afraid of what your father would do to him when he was un-petrified_!"  
  
Harry laughed aloud, glad that no one in the dormitory was there to hear him. He always enjoyed Remus's tales of his days in school. He felt like he got to know his father, Sirius, and Remus better each time he heard one.  
  
" _So how was your lesson with Kingsley today_?" Remus asked.  
  
" _It was hard. I've been distracted with all this stuff going on, and it was hard to concentrate enough on wandless magic. I got it in the end, though, and I even raised a shield charm_."  
  
" _Harry, I am sure Kingsley told you this, but as you master wandless magic, you will be able to do it more easily with time. Do you remember the amount of focus it took your first year to do even the simplest spells? Yet, once you learned them, they became second-nature. Do you understand what I mean_?"  
  
Harry nodded, and then remembered that Remus couldn't actually see him. The clarity of the conversation in his mind made him feel so much as if they were in the same room that it was easy to forget that Remus was not actually there.  
  
" _Yes, I understand_ ," he answered. " _I just hope you're right_."  
  
" _I am_ ," Remus answered confidently, never doubting Harry's abilities for even a second. The two chatted comfortably for a few more minutes before Harry heard his roommates coming up the stairs. He quickly bid goodnight to Remus and tucked the amulet under his robes, hiding it from view. His friends knew about it, of course, but he did not want too many people to be aware of it. Maybe it was Moody's constant growls of "constant vigilance," but even though Remus had told him only they could use them, he still didn't want them to fall into the wrong hands.  
  


* * *

  
"Has the giant received our gift?" the voice hissed.  
  
Kneeling on the cold stone of the heatless room, Draco Malfoy tried not to shiver as he answered, "He has, my Lord."  
  
There was silence for a few moments, but Draco knew that Lord Voldemort had not yet left him alone in the small dungeon chamber, so he did not get up even though his legs were quickly becoming numb with cold.  
  
"Were you aware that you were seen entering the forest both times you have visited?" the Dark Lord asked suddenly, his cold voice sounding almost amused.  
  
"I was wearing the Invisibility Cloak, my Lord," Draco answered quickly but softly. If someone had seen him, he knew that he would be punished severely, both by Lord Voldemort and by his own father.  
  
"Yes, young Malfoy, I am aware of it," the voice responded. "The wards have been strengthened around the castle, and I anticipated this complication. I am told that fool of a Headmaster is the only one who has detected your comings and goings, but that he does not believe you have sworn your loyalty to me yet. He is allowing you to pass in hopes that you will see his way before you leave school."  
  
Draco felt a surge of anger at Dumbledore at that moment. That interfering old fool made it almost impossible to go undetected for long in the castle. He felt another surge of rage as he wondered again who had told his Lord about the breach of the wards, especially considering that he, Draco, had not even known about it  
  
"Your father will be sending you a second gift for our giant via post owl tomorrow," Voldemort said, and Draco heaved a sigh of relief as he detected no signs of anger in his master's voice. "I am not able to breach Dumbledore's wards at this time, so I would advise extreme caution on your part in all other areas. We would not want him to become suspicious." The threat was evident in his voice.  
  
"No, my Lord," Draco said. "We would not."  
  


* * *

  
The grounds were bitterly cold through the rest of November and into December, and Harry and Ginny had to use their wands to melt a path in the snow on the way back to the castle after the last Quidditch practice before the Christmas holidays.  
  
"Harry, I know Mum invited you to stay with us over Christmas," Ginny said. "You're coming, aren't you?"  
  
Harry hesitated. He wanted to spend the holiday at the Burrow, of course – he was quite eager to spend time with Ginny and the rest of the Weasleys, but he had two reasons for not having sent at owl back to Mrs. Weasley just yet. The first was that he also wanted to spend the holidays with Remus as well. The second was that, although the open animosity had diminished, he and Ron had still not repaired their friendship, and he was not at all sure that Ron would want him to go.  
  
He chose not to mention Ron in front of Ginny, and he said, "Well, I don't want Moony to spend Christmas alone at Grimmauld Place, so I'll probably go there."  
  
Ginny glanced at him. "Mum's already invited Remus to stay at the Burrow as well," she told him. "Didn't you know? She had the feeling that you would want to be with him as well, and she doesn't like anyone to be alone over Christmas, anyway."  
  
"I didn't know," Harry said with some surprise. "Moony didn't tell me that."  
  
"I reckon he wanted it to be a surprise, Harry," Ginny told him. "He was sure you would be spending the break with us, and of course he wanted to be with you over the holidays as well."  
  
"I, er – " Harry began, not sure how to phrase his second hesitation.  
  
"You're afraid that Ron doesn't want you?" Ginny said, glancing at him shrewdly.  
  
"Well, yeah," Harry admitted.  
  
"Don't be stupid, Harry. Of course Ron wants you to come and stay with us."  
  
"He hasn't spoken to me since Halloween," Harry pointed out.  
  
"When are you two going to grow up and talk to each other about it?" Ginny said in frustration. "Besides, even if Ron is still being a prat, I want you to come to the Burrow, Harry. Doesn't that count for anything?"  
  
He squeezed her hand. "Of course it does. I just don't want to spoil Ron's Christmas."  
  
"Then talk to him, Harry. He can't still be mad at you for what happened on Halloween night. He knows you didn't do it on purpose, so what's going on?"  
  
"I don't know," Harry said. "But he is going to have to talk to me first. I'm not upset with him. He's the one who won't speak to me." The truth was, Harry was frustrated enough with Ron's silence that he had even considered using Legilimency to see if he could find out why his friend was so angry with him, but he did not want to invade Ron's privacy like that. He didn't like to think what would happen if Ron realized what he was doing.  
  
Ginny sighed, wondering why it always took boys so long to figure out what was right under their noses. "Hermione and I reckon that he's jealous, Harry," she said.  
  
"Jealous?" Harry replied incredulously. "Of what?"  
  
"Of our relationship," Ginny replied simply. "You've been his best mate for almost six years now, and Hermione reckons his feelings have been hurt because you spend so much time with me."  
  
"I don't spend any more time with you than he does with Hermione," Harry replied in confusion. "Actually, I don't feel like I get to spend enough time with anyone with everything I have to do this term."  
  
"I know that, Harry," Ginny replied. "But maybe he's worried that you don't need him anymore, or that you care for me more than you care for him."  
  
"That's stupid," Harry said bluntly. "There's no rule that says I can't date you and still be friends with Ron."  
  
"Of course there isn't," Ginny replied, the slightest hint of exasperation in her voice. "Look, Harry, just talk to him. I'm going to be upset at both of you if this stupid row keeps us from spending Christmas together."  
  
Harry stopped as they reached the entrance to the castle and pulled Ginny into his arms. He was being stupid, he knew. No matter what was going on with Ron, he wanted to spend the holidays with Ginny as well. Now that he knew Remus was going to be there, too, he had no excuses left. "Of course I'll go, Ginny," he said softly, and he bent to kiss her softly before they went into the castle for dinner. He had to admit that the prospect of getting to spend so much time with her was rather exciting to him. He resolved to try and talk to Ron before the end of term, to see if they could reconcile their differences and be mates again. Harry had to admit that he missed him. Hogwarts just wasn't the same without having Ron by his side.  
  
That night, Harry cast his silencing charm as usual before he went to bed. He had witnessed no further attacks since the one on Halloween night, but casting the charm had become habit, and he had taken to casting it wandlessly lately. His lessons with Kingsley and Dumbledore had improved greatly over the past month as Harry learned to put his frustrations aside and focus the way he knew he had to, and after Christmas, he and Kingsley were going to progress into soundless magic and start putting everything together for some real duels.  
  
Harry reinforced his Occlumency shield as usual, but he had not even been asleep for an hour when the thing he had been dreading happened once again. He had known it would; his scar had been hurting for three days now, but he had hoped that his Occlumency shield would keep him from having to witness it.  
  
"Who are you?" asked a small woman in an obviously Muggle household. "What do you want?"  
  
"You have nothing that I want, Muggle," Harry could feel his mouth move as Lord Voldemort said the words.  
  
"Then why are you here?" the woman continued boldly, but Harry heard a quiver of fear in her voice. He could feel Voldemort's excitement as he did not answer but pointed his long finger up the stairs to the left of the woman.  
  
She screamed as she saw three men in black robes and masks come down the stairs, each holding a struggling child easily in his arms.  
  
"Allow me to introduce three of my most trusted followers," Voldemort said coldly. "They have been performing their duties with unparalleled dedication, and I thought it was high time they were rewarded. Macnair, is there anyone else upstairs?"  
  
The Death Eater holding the smallest child shook his head. "Only the three brats, my Lord," said the raspy voice that Harry recognized as belonging to Buckbeak's would-be executioner.  
  
Harry watched in horror as the Death Eaters killed each child in turn, not with the Avada Kedavra curse, but slowly, enjoying the screams of their mother as they writhed in pain and howled in fear. She begged for their lives, offered herself in their place, but to no avail.  
  
When the children were dead, Voldemort turned to leave.  
  
"My Lord, what of the woman?" asked the voice of Bellatrix Lestrange.  
  
"Kill her," Voldemort hissed unconcernedly as he swept out of the house.  
  
Harry awoke dripping with sweat, hot tears streaking his face, his throat raw from silent screams. His roommates slept on as Harry quietly got up and pulled on his dressing gown to make another trek, this time alone, to the Headmaster's office. His heart pounded with furious rage as he walked, and he did nothing to stem the flow of his tears – in fact, he barely even noticed them. Voldemort had had no reason to attack that family. He had simply done it because he felt like it, because his blood-thirsty Death Eaters wanted a reward for their work while the next battle was being planned. Harry's disgust threatened to make him sick as he said the password, went up the revolving staircase, and knocked on Dumbledore's door.


	28. Christmas at the Burrow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry spends Christmas with the people he loves the most, and Ginny gives him something to get his mind off everything that's happening in the world around him after she and the rest figure out why his voice has been so hoarse.

The atmosphere in the sixth-year boys' dormitory was very strained as Harry, Ron, Dean, Seamus, and Neville packed their things to leave for the holidays. Seamus kept to himself, not even talking to Dean. For reasons unknown to any of the rest of them, his anger over Quidditch tryouts seemed to have increased rather than diminished with time. Ron also remained silent, though he kept shooting glances at Harry like he wanted to say something. Neville and Dean felt very awkward and had long since stopped trying to make conversation. Harry was silent as well, but for an entirely different reason: his voice was so hoarse from screams no one had heard that it was actually painful to speak.

In the past week, Harry had witnessed two more attacks, but he no longer went to Dumbledore about them. He just didn't see the point; Harry's visions took place as he saw them so he was helpless to even try to stop the events from happening. Besides, the Headmaster had very little to say other than inquiring as to the level of Harry's intrusion on Voldemort's mind and reminding Harry that although Occlumency did not prevent the unintentional connection forged during the failed killing curse, it saved Harry from having to feel Voldemort's emotions and, more importantly, it kept Voldemort from realizing that Harry was there.

Harry already knew all of this, and he found the Headmaster's inability to change the situation extremely disconcerting. After the first attack, he simply spent the remainder of the night lying in his bed and trying unsuccessfully to go back to sleep. He wondered why these attacks had started so suddenly when relatively little had happened over the entire term. What had changed?

Ginny and Hermione were very concerned about Harry's hoarse voice, thinking he was coming down with a nasty winter cold. Since very few people actually knew about the attacks that Harry was witnessing, and they weren't reported by the Daily Prophet since they had happened to Muggles and the Mark had not been cast, none of Harry's friends had realized that there might be more meaning behind his croaky voice. Eager to keep his secret, Harry had visited Madam Pomfrey for a Pepper-Up Potion at Ginny's insistence, and had spent the remainder of the evening with steam coming out of his ears. Ron had actually looked as though he were about to laugh, but he covered it with a cough just in time while Hermione clucked at him impatiently.

Harry had wanted to spend Christmas at the Burrow for years, but now that he was only one day away from actually going, his heart just wasn't in it. He only hoped that he would be able to make it up with Ron while they were there, because if Ron continued the silent treatment it was going to be a long few weeks sharing Ron's small bedroom.

Harry packed his last pair of socks away in his trunk and headed back down to the common room to meet Ginny for a walk around the grounds before curfew. "Bring your cloak," Ginny had said shamelessly as he had gone upstairs to pack, and now, as he rolled the silvery cloak tightly and put it in his pocket, being careful not to let Ron see him doing so, he could barely hide his grin. His time with Ginny had given him a whole new appreciation for his father's old cloak.

When Harry and Ginny returned to the common room almost an hour later, Harry's cheeks were flushed, his hair more unruly than ever, and he no longer had any reservations whatsoever about departing for the Burrow the following morning.

* * *

  
Lupin, Shacklebolt, Molly, Arthur, Bill, Charlie, and the twins greeted Harry, Ron and Ginny happily the next morning as the Hogwarts Express arrived at King's Cross Station carrying most of the students home for the holidays. The atmosphere on the ride down had been festive as the young witches and wizards relished the idea of having so much time free from examinations, and for Harry and his friends, the mood was improved because Draco Malfoy had been one of the few students to sign up to stay at school for the holidays. They had not missed his customary visit to their compartment on the journey and had passed the time pleasantly, gossiping about their fellow students and playing games of Exploding Snap and Gobstones. Although Ron had never spoken directly to Harry, he had not seemed hostile, and Harry had hopes that he would be ready to bury the hatchet sometime soon. Even Hermione did not crack a book the entire way back, preferring to spend her time snuggled close to Ron, who she most likely would not see until after Christmas. Her parents were insistent that she spend the holidays with them, and even Hermione could not say that she blamed them after their summer had been cut short the way that it had.

Ginny grinned at Harry as Mrs. Weasley made a fuss over all of them, inquiring about what they had eaten for lunch and how they had done on each of their midterm exams. It was only after being swallowed by one of Molly's bone-crunching hugs that Harry was able to make his way over to Remus, who immediately shook his hand and clapped him on the shoulder, a broad smile on his face. They were all very happy to see one another, but perhaps none quite as much as Moony and Harry, who were still getting the feel for their relationship, and who had both lost so much that they could no longer take for granted that they would see each other again. Though the Weasleys were all saddened by the losses of Sirius, Arabella Figg, and Hestia Jones, Voldemort had yet to claim a member of their family, and they never seemed to doubt that Christmas and summer holidays would always bring them all back together.

"How are you, Harry?" Remus asked quietly as they pulled away from King's Cross in one of several Muggle taxis, the drivers rather confused and disgruntled by the cacophony of sounds coming from the several animal cages and the large, unwieldy trunks with odd crests upon their lids.

"All right, Moony," Harry answered happily, and for the moment it was perfectly true. They had two full weeks without lessons, the snow was becoming whiter and prettier as they left London and headed towards Ottery St. Catchpole, and he had a pretty girl snuggled close on his other side, sleeping comfortably on the rather long trip.

"You look like you haven't been sleeping well," Lupin prodded, noticing the bags that were once again present under his charge's eyes.

Harry shrugged, trying to look nonchalant. "Just been staying up late with revision and all," he commented, avoiding his guardian's eyes.

"Harry," Lupin said warningly, reminding Harry that he would accept nothing less than full honesty.

"Everything's fine, Moony," Harry said with the slightest trace of irritation in his voice. He did not want to talk about his visions right now. Was it so much to ask that he just have the opportunity to enjoy the scenery and anticipate spending the entire holiday at the Burrow with the people he loved the best?

Remus glanced sideways at Harry and his expression cleared a bit as he noticed Ginny's head resting contentedly on Harry's shoulder. He could not resist, however, adding one last comment. "Okay, but I'm here if you need anything."

Harry nodded, and then, casting about for a subject change, asked, "What did the Marauders do over the Christmas holidays?"

Lupin grinned and settled himself a little more comfortably on the vinyl backseat of the small taxi. "Let's see," he said as if searching for a memory, although he had immediately chosen the story he would tell today. "The only Christmas that the Marauders all spent together was the Christmas during our fifth year. Sirius's parents had gone traveling, as had mine, and Peter's parents gave him permission to come with the rest of us to the Potter's for the holiday.

"We started planning for it as soon as we knew it was going to happen. I think the professors were actually rather taken aback, because during November we were so busy with our plans that we forgot to make much mischief elsewhere. I believe that James and Sirius only served one detention apiece during that time, for sitting at the front of History of Magic and using their wands to shoot pink bubbles through Professor Binns."

"It sounds like my dad and Sirius were always in detention," Harry commented wryly.

"Well," Remus said with a smile, "not always. I do believe, however, that they spent more time in detention than any other Hogwarts student has since."

"So, go on about Christmas," Harry encouraged, shifting his weight to get Ginny's head off his collarbone.

"Okay," Remus continued, smiling once again at Harry's thirst for knowledge of his father's Hogwarts days. "When the day finally came, even Sirius didn't need one of us to get him moving in the morning. Potter Manor had a very large garden, perfect for snowball fights and pick-up Quidditch, and the house itself was huge. There was also, of course, the added benefit of neighbors with three very pretty daughters, one of whom was a Ravenclaw from our year."

"My dad lived in a Wizarding neighborhood?"

"No, I wouldn't exactly say that," Remus answered. "As many wizards choose to do, your grandparents lived fairly far out into the countryside outside of London. You see, fewer wards and anti-Muggle protection measures are needed the farther from the city you are. This was very appealing to many Wizarding families as they decided where to build their homes. In this case, the Potter family and the Davies family had a friendship that went back a long way, and somewhere along the line, they had decided to build their estates on neighboring lots. As is common among Pureblood families, the two households were also related to one another through several marriages over time."

"The Davies family?" Harry asked. For some reason, the mention of the name "Davies" had triggered something in his mind, but he wasn't at all sure what. It took him a moment to remember the small brunette who had been sorted into Gryffindor at the Start-of-Term feast, but he quickly rejected the idea that she could have come from any kind of magical family. He distinctly remembered suspecting that she had come from a Muggle background just as he had.

"Yes, the Davies family. The entire family was killed during the first war, at the same time as the Potter's home was destroyed."

"Were my...grandparents killed at the same time?" Harry asked with difficulty, realizing that he had never asked about his father's family.

"No," Lupin replied. "Your grandparents had James late in life, and they both died of natural causes the winter before you were born. Lily was only a couple of months pregnant at the time. The Davies were killed and your family manor destroyed soon after you were born. There was no connection that we know of, however. Unfortunately, the destroying of families and homes was a rather common occurrence during those days."

Harry nodded, feeling the familiar surge of sadness and anger that accompanied every bit of news he received about Voldemort's reigns of terror.

"Anyway," Remus continued, changing the subject quickly upon seeing the look on Harry's face, "I remember Christmas morning of that year particularly well. All four of us were staying in rooms near James's in the manor, and we were awoken no later than 5:30 in the morning by Sirius galloping up and down the hall like a five-year-old, shooting Reductor curses at each of our doors."

Harry grinned in astonishment. "Reductor curses? But I thought you weren't allowed to use magic outside of school."

"Of course we weren't, but when was the last time Sirius was ever concerned about small issues such as rules and restrictions? Besides, the wards on Potter manor kept us rather safe in that aspect, unfortunately for Mr. and Mrs. Potter, who had to deal with the fallout of everything we did."

Harry had a sudden image of his grandfather, who he imagined to look much like he and his father, pushing back unruly, black hair and sighing good-naturedly as he cast Reparo charms on broken items throughout his house.

Remus seemed to be reading Harry's mind as he smiled reminiscently and said, "Mr. and Mrs. Potter were very good sports, but I daresay that from their interactions with Sirius over the years they had some idea of what could happen when they invited all four of us to stay for the holiday.

"Anyhow, that Christmas morning we were all awoken by our doors blasting to smithereens, Sirius singing 'God Rest Ye, Merry Marauders' at the top of his lungs, and Mr. Potter following him and making a very half-hearted attempt to get Sirius to cease blasting the doors and go back to bed. Sirius, of course, would have none of it, and we all knew he wasn't going to stop until we were all up and in the lounge, ready to tear into our presents.

"So it was that the four Marauders and Mr. and Mrs. Potter filed down the stairs to the lounge, all of us save Sirius still rubbing the sleep from our eyes, and when we reached the door and began to file through, most of us had to do at least a double take. Apparently, sometime in the night, Sirius had bewitched the walls, the paintings, even all the furniture to bright shades of red and green, or metallic gold and silver. It was blinding, and poor Mrs. Potter about fainted." Remus chuckled as he recalled the garish colors of the normally rather staid Potter lounge. Harry grinned as well - it sounded just like something Sirius would have done.

"We all opened our presents. Knowing that Sirius would receive little to nothing from the Blacks, who had all but disowned him when he became a Gryffindor, the Potters made sure that he had as many presents as James. I can't remember exactly what it was that everyone got, but suffice to say that none of us felt neglected in any way.

"After we'd had a big breakfast and Sirius had changed the colors back to normal in the lounge, we went out to have yet another snowball fight. Mr. Potter confiscated our wands, saying that he did not want yet another complaint from the Davies, who had grown quite tired of enchanted, multicolored snowballs hitting their daughters' windows at all hours of the day and night.

"It seemed nothing could ruin Sirius's mood. As soon as we were a safe distance away from prying eyes, he transformed into Padfoot and rolled around in the snow like an idiot, and before any of us could stop him, he was bounding through the garden and over the hedge that separated the Potter's property from the Davies's. What he didn't realize at the time was that Camilla Davies, the youngest of the sisters, had seen him transform more than once and knew our secret.

"James did not transform at the time, being at least slightly more cautious than Sirius, and Peter didn't transform because it was extremely hard for a rat to run through deep snow. I, of course, never had the option of whether or not to transform. Anyway, needless to say, Sirius ran out of our line of sight almost immediately, and by the time we reached the Davies there wasn't a sign of him anywhere."

"He didn't go into the house, did he?" Ginny asked, sitting up suddenly, and Harry laughed. Her eyes were bright and alert, and it was immediately obvious that she had only been feigning sleep in order to give him and Remus a sense of privacy.

"No," Lupin replied, laughing along with Harry. "We found him about half an hour later, wearing a bright red harness and chained to a peg that was driven into the ground. From the prints on the snow, it was obvious that he had tried to transform into his human form, but because of the constraints of the harness around his torso, he was unable to do it."

"The Davies girls just left him there on his own?" Ginny asked incredulously. "Out in the snow?"

"Oh, no," Remus assured her, his eyes twinkling very much like Dumbledore's often did. "Although I assume he probably wished that they had. The Davies girls could obviously give as well as they got, which was something we hadn't realized until that very moment. All three of the girls were standing right in Sirius's line of sight, bewitching snowballs to fly straight at him without mercy and occasionally letting loose with some other minor yet very annoying curses. Can you imagine suffering a bat-bogey hex without being able to use your hands to swipe the things away?"

All three of them burst into laughter at the thought of the large black dog with giant flying bogies attacking his face, but Ginny noticed the sudden look of sadness cross Harry's features and she reached out and squeezed his hand comfortingly. "Hey," she said softly, as Remus watched the exchange, "this is the way that Sirius would want to be remembered, isn't it?"

Harry nodded and smiled at her in thanks, squeezing her hand back. The three rode in companionable silence the rest of the way to the Burrow, and Harry pretended he didn't notice as Remus performed a mild memory charm on the driver after he had unloaded their trunks and animal cages in front of the ramshackle old house that had been the Weasley's home for years. As he lugged his trunk up the stairs to Ron's room, he resolved to talk to Ron as soon as he had the opportunity. The Weasleys felt like family to him, every last one of them, and he had no intention of letting anything stand in the way of that for one moment longer.

After Harry and Ron had silently organized their things, keeping their backs carefully turned towards each other, Harry stole a glance at the closed door. Having convinced himself that they were alone, he finally broached the subject which had been bothering him for over a week.

"Er, Ron?" he ventured tentatively, hoping not to cause an explosion of Weasley temper.

Ron showed no signs of anger as he turned towards Harry, a guardedly hopeful expression crossing his freckled face. "Yeah, Harry?"

"Look, I'm really sorry about what happened, okay? When I, er, held my wand on you and stuff."

"You mean when you almost killed me?" Ron asked, and Harry was about to retort angrily when he caught the half-smile on Ron's face. "It's all right, mate," Ron continued somewhat bracingly.

"I really am -" Harry continued.

"No one else has to deal with the stuff you have to deal with," Ron replied, and Harry must have looked surprised at this abrupt change in attitude because Ron hurriedly said, "Hermione made me think about what it would be like to be in the middle of something like that."

"She did?" Harry asked, because generally Ron's and Hermione's attitudes on feelings and emotions differed greatly and they found no middle ground.

"Well, yeah," Ron admitted, looking a bit awkward now. "I mean, you told us about the prophecy. We know what you have to do, and you are not going to shut us out. We've always been there before. This is no different."

"If you feel like that, why did you wait so long to make it up?" Harry asked.

"I...erm…" Ron started, and Harry noticed the tips of his ears begin to turn red.

"Out with it," Harry said firmly, sure that at last he was going to find out why Ron had stayed angry with him for so long.

"I just reckoned you had Ginny and you didn't need anyone else," Ron muttered.

Harry stared at his best friend, who was determinedly avoiding any eye contact. "You're mental," Harry said firmly. "Do you have any idea what it's been like, spending time with no one but Ginny and Hermione?"

Ron grinned. "Yeah, I guess I do," he said, no longer looking embarrassed. "Ginny is my sister, after all. Tell me, has she bat-bogeyed you yet? Just wait..."

* * *

  
The last few days before Christmas Day passed in a blur of snowball fights, ice skating on the small pond behind the Burrow, and surreptitious owl orders being carried out at all hours by Pigwidgeon, Sammy, and of course Hedwig. The holiday spirit was in the air, and thoughts of war and death were pushed aside for everyone at the rickety old house. Everyone, that is, besides Harry, who was still forced to cast silencing charms on himself before he slept each night to avoid waking the others. Although Harry was certain that Voldemort had not detected his presence during the almost nightly attacks on Muggle families, no amount of Occlumency Harry could employ seemed to be able to keep him where he belonged, on the small cot in Ron's bedroom at the Burrow.

Harry's hoarse voice each morning concerned Mrs. Weasley greatly, and as she had promised herself to treat Harry just like one of her own, she dosed him up with Pepper-Up Potion and tried to insist that he stay inside. Harry took the potion and tried to ignore the steam coming out of his ears, but he was glad when Ginny intervened and convinced her mother that to keep Harry inside for all of his Christmas holidays would be nothing less than criminal.

Although the Dark Mark had not been cast over any of the Muggle homes, the Daily Prophet had finally gotten wind of what was happening, and the Christmas Eve headline proclaimed in large letters, " _Death Eaters Run Rampant: Muggle Attacks Increase_." As a result, when Harry, who was always last to come downstairs due to the necessity of casting the counter-charm on himself before he spoke to anyone, arrived in the kitchen on Christmas Eve morning with his voice as croaky as ever, he was greeted by solemn stares from everyone and a particularly penetrating gaze from Lupin. Arthur, the twins, Bill and Charlie were not present, but Harry was used to this. He often arrived at table after the rest of them had gone.

"What's wrong?" Harry asked groggily; he had been up most of the night, but was not yet aware that anyone else knew about the attacks.

"Harry, it's so terrible," Hermione began breathlessly, shoving her copy of the _Daily Prophet_ at him as he sat down. She was visiting for Christmas Eve, having finally convinced her parents that letting her go for one day could not have too many ill effects. Lupin watched Harry carefully as he skimmed the front-page article and was not surprised when Harry showed no emotion or outrage at the news.

"It's like what happened that one night, Harry," Ron said carefully. Both of them still avoided the subject of their argument as much as possible.

"Yeah," Harry said shortly, and everyone at the table noticed that his voice was almost nonexistent. Mrs. Weasley passed him a plate of kippers, but he shook his head almost imperceptibly and got up from the table. "I'm not hungry, Mrs. Weasley, but thanks," he said quietly, and went back up the stairs to Ron's room.

Ginny rose at once to follow him, as did Ron and Hermione, but Lupin motioned for all of them to stay seated as he himself rose and took his plate to the sink, where the scrubbing brush immediately went to work scrubbing off the remainders of his breakfast. "Let me talk to him," he requested, and before anyone could protest, he left the room quietly.

"What d'you reckon?" Ron asked Ginny, Hermione, and Mrs. Weasley, all of whom had reseated themselves at the table, looking nervous.

"Oh, Ron, isn't it obvious?" Ginny snapped before anyone else could reply. "Harry didn't just see that one attack; he's been seeing all of them."

"No, he hasn't," Ron protested. "I've been in the same room as him every night. He never makes a sound."

"That doesn't make any sense," Hermione pondered. "Hasn't he always woken up when he has these...these...dreams, or visions?"

"Yes," Ron answered, still looking confused.

"Unless..." Hermione said quietly, and it was obvious to the others that whatever she was thinking disturbed her greatly.

"Unless what, dear?" Mrs. Weasley prompted after Hermione had not continued for a few moments.

"How long has his voice been like that, Ginny?" Hermione asked.

"On and off for a couple of weeks," Ginny answered, and Hermione nodded in confirmation.

"Ever since the first attack?" Hermione prompted, and Ginny nodded.

Mrs. Weasley gasped, covering her mouth with her hand. "Oh, no," she whispered. "Oh, that poor dear."

"What?" Ron asked, helping himself to another kipper as everyone else at the table looked towards the stairs, their expressions a mixture of horror and pity.

Hermione sighed, returning her gaze to her boyfriend. "Isn't it obvious, Ron?"

"Will everyone stop saying that and just tell me what in the bloody hell is going on?" Ron asked hotly.

"Harry's seen all of the attacks," Hermione repeated, and before Ron could disagree, she continued, "and he must be casting a silencing charm on himself before he goes to bed so you won't hear him if he wakes up. It's why his voice has been so hoarse."

"Come off it," Ron said. "Harry would never -"

"It's exactly the sort of thing Harry would do," Ginny said angrily, "especially after what happened that first night. You wouldn't speak to him for days because of something he couldn't even help."

"He held his wand on me, Ginny!" Ron countered hotly. "Who wouldn't have had a problem with that? Besides, we're all right now."

"It's because of you that he wouldn't tell anyone!" Ginny shouted, jumping up from her chair. "You made him think it would be dangerous for anyone to help him, and now we find out he's been seeing these horrid attacks almost every night, and watching families and _children_ die terrible deaths right in front of him, and because you decided you would be stupid and act all _injured_ , he's thought he had to do it alone! You disgust me, Ronald Weasley!"

Ron gaped at her and stood up so quickly that his chair toppled backward, but once he was up, it didn't seem like he could figure out exactly what to say.

Ginny didn't give him a chance to gather his thoughts, and her voice rose in pitch as she continued shouting at him, ignoring the reproachful looks from her mother. "In case you have forgotten, Ron, we promised him we would help him! When he told us about that prophecy, we swore we'd stay with him, fight with him, no matter what! Some friend you are," she raged, her face coloring brilliantly. "You swore to fight alongside him, to help him, and at the first sign of difficulty you not only leave him alone, but you start a row with him!"

"Ginny!" Mrs. Weasley shouted, standing up and banging her hands on the table. "Do you think this is helping Harry?"

"Maybe not," Ginny said, struggling to control her voice as she turned to face her mother. "But it's high time someone helped him." With that, she turned from all of them and ran up the stairs.

"The _first_ sign of difficulty?" Ron asked incredulously, and Molly and Hermione both turned to him, expressions of mixed pity and annoyance on each of their faces.

* * *

  
Lupin walked quietly up the flights of stairs leading to Ron's small bedroom and was slightly surprised when he saw that Harry had left the door open, and was sitting on his cot, staring out in front of him blankly.

"Harry?" he asked quietly, entering the room and closing the door behind him. "You want to tell me what's been going on?"

"Nothing," Harry answered dully.

"That's not true and you know it," Lupin prodded, taking a seat at the end of the cot and looking at Harry with the intense gaze that Harry had come to dread. "You've seen all of the attacks, haven't you?"

"Yes," Harry answered simply.

"Harry, why didn't you tell anyone?" Lupin asked. "Why didn't you tell me or Professor Dumbledore, or even Hermione, Ron, or Ginny?"

"Dumbledore can't help with this," Harry replied, and his voice began to take on a bitter tone as he continued. "He said my Occlumency kept Voldemort from knowing I was there, and kept me from having to feel his emotion, but that the connection couldn't be cut off entirely."

"That makes sense," Lupin said. "The failed curse seems to have created quite a link between the two of you."

"There was nothing I could do about it," Harry spat. "They killed all those people, and I just stood there and watched it happen. No one could stop it. Not me, not Dumbledore, and I almost killed my best friend because he happened to be there when I woke up."

"You didn't almost kill him, Harry," Lupin corrected him. "You didn't do anything to him."

"Yeah, well, what if I had?"

Lupin was saved from answering this question by the door slamming open to reveal Ginny, her face flushed. "I'm sorry, Professor," she said, her tone leaving no room for protest, "but you've had your chance." She turned to face Harry. "Come on, get your cloak. We're going out."

"Ginny," Moony began as Harry grabbed his winter cloak, but Ginny paid him no heed.

"Yes, get your winter things on, Harry," she said firmly. "But we're taking the invisibility cloak, too. You need to get away from all this." As Harry finished pulling on his winter cloak, she went to his trunk and rummaged around until she found the invisibility cloak. She stowed it in her pocket, pointedly ignoring Lupin as she grabbed Harry's hand and pulled him out the door.

Ginny hurried Harry down the stairs, her hand pushing insistently at his back from time to. They both ignored the questioning glances from Ron, Hermione, and Molly, and they didn't respond to the twins' teasing as they passed them in the front garden, where Fred and George were experimenting with something for their shop.

As soon as they were away from view, Ginny pulled the invisibility cloak out of her pocket and pulled it around both of them. Once she was certain they were completely hidden from prying eyes, she led him into a grove of trees, carefully sweeping their footprints away with the hem of her cloak.

"Where are we -" Harry whispered, but Ginny shushed him and kept walking.

They had walked for nearly five minutes when Ginny suddenly stopped in a small clearing covered in pure white snow that sparkled in the morning sunlight.

"Here?" Harry asked, looking around. The setting was certainly lovely, but he could see no comfortable place to sit. As pretty and soft as the snow looked, any Hogwarts student knew that it was cold, wet, and not at all comfortable.

"No, not here," Ginny said slightly impatiently, "up there." She pointed into the top of one of the trees, and Harry could see a dilapidated wooden tree house nestled into a branch about halfway up. Ginny squeezed his hand and led him to the tree, showing him the boards fastened to the trunk every couple of feet, forming a rough ladder. After looking carefully around them, Ginny pulled the invisibility cloak off, balled it up and stuck it in her pocket, then motioned Harry to follow her up the ladder.

"Bill and Charlie built this thing before they were even old enough for Hogwarts," Ginny whispered. "Dad's always had all those Muggle tools around, you know, and Charlie reckoned that even though they couldn't use magic yet, they could build something with them. I think Dad might have helped them out a little bit, but they apparently thought they did the whole thing themselves. I was only a baby."

Harry looked around the tree house. It certainly didn't look like anything magical he had ever seen. In fact, it seemed just as rickety and poorly built as the club house that Dudley and his friends had attempted to build in the Dursley's back garden the summer after Harry's first year at Hogwarts. The only difference was that the small area was rather warm, especially considering that there were great holes in each of the walls serving as makeshift windows, and another in the floor giving access to the plank ladder. Before he had time to comment on anything, though, he felt the Invisibility Cloak slide back over his head. "Ginny, what -" he began.

"Shhh," she said, putting her finger too his lips, her body tantalizingly close to his. "Enough talking, Harry." With that, she pulled the cloak more securely around them and pressed her lips to his, kissing him longer and harder than she ever had before.

Harry stiffened involuntarily at first; after all, he was not really in the mood for snogging, and the floor of the tree house was hard and uncomfortable. As Ginny's arms tightened around him and her kiss deepened, however, Harry's entire body warmed past the temperature of the room and he found himself responding to her, pulling her closer and closer until she was in his lap, straddling him, her hands entwined his unkempt, uncombed black hair, pressing his lips harder onto hers as her tongue pushed between his lips.

Neither Harry nor Ginny felt the air hit their faces as the Invisibility Cloak slipped off them, and when Ginny took Harry's hand and moved it sensually up her abdomen and onto the soft mounds of her small breasts, they both shivered, and not from the chill in the air.

"Ginny," Harry whispered as Ginny moved her lips away from his, kissing and suckling softly over his jawbone and down into the nape of his neck. Harry moaned, no longer remembering what it was he had been going to say to her. Nothing could be important enough to make her stop...

* * *

  
The winter sun was getting high in the morning sky by the time Harry and Ginny broke apart and lay next to one another, breathing heavily, their clothing discarded and pushed into a corner. Their hands entwined, they were silent for a long while as they simply stared at the underside of the roof, lost in their own thoughts.

Harry found the silence too much to bear after awhile. "Ginny," he began hesitantly. "I'm -"

"Don't you dare say you are sorry, Harry," Ginny said softly, squeezing his hand.

"But, Ginny..." Harry trailed off, not sure what to say. His body was a screaming contradiction of sensation and emotion, and he wasn't sure why, but he had the sudden feeling that what they had done was wrong in some way.

"Harry, I love you," Ginny said firmly, "and nothing is wrong with this if it is done when two people love each other."

Harry stared at Ginny in amazement. She suddenly sounded much more mature than her fifteen years, sounded so knowledgeable about something that she, like he, had only just experienced.

"I'm not sorry, Harry," Ginny continued, turning her head to look at him. "I'm not sorry in the least, and I don't want you to be either."

Harry was saved the necessity of replying as Ginny rolled over and kissed him gently, and it wasn't long before any doubts he might have had were washed away.

Harry and Ginny lay together for the rest of the day in that tree house, the Invisibility Cloak now acting as a pillow beneath their heads. Harry's winter cloak was wrapped securely around both of them, Ginny's having fallen through the trapdoor and into the snow below. For hours, they talked about everything. It was not until the sun had begun to set that Harry's stomach growled, reminding him that they had been out since shortly after sunrise, and that he had not eaten breakfast.

Ginny was dozing in his arms, having said as few words to him as possible throughout the entire day, and Harry reveled in the slight rise and fall of her chest as she breathed softly, the skin of her chest pressed against his, their body heat combined with the magical warmth of the tree house negating the need for their jumpers and jeans. Harry had just resolved to wait until she woke up on her own and had pulled his cloak more securely around them when he heard voices in the distance, and the sound of boots crunching through snow.

"Harry! Ginny!" called the unmistakable voice of one of the twins. "Oi! Where are you two?"

"Ginny!" Harry whispered frantically, shaking her rather more roughly than he normally would have done. "Wake up! Someone's coming!"

"Whaa - ?" Ginny said in groggy surprise as she sat straight up, the winter cloak falling around her waist. The cold air hitting the moist, sweaty skin of her torso served as a sufficient wake-up call, and as she heard her brothers' voices calling again, her brown eyes widened in alarm. "Damn!" she whispered loudly, searching frantically for her own clothes and undergarments amidst the intermingled pile in one corner of the small space. In her hurry, she pulled Harry's jeans halfway onto her own legs before realizing her mistake. "These are yours," she whispered, grinning naughtily at Harry as she removed them and tossed them to him.

"Fred! Would you look what we've got over here?" said George's voice from directly below him.

"What's that, George?" Fred asked cheerfully. Ginny and Harry tried their best to quiet their breath and their movements as they hurriedly pulled on their clothes.

"If I'm not mistaken, this cloak belongs to our dear little sister," George said, and Ginny and Harry heard the snap of the fabric as George shook the snow off the cloak to show it to Fred.

"But if that cloak belongs to Ginny, then where could she be?" Fred asked in a tone of exaggerated bewilderment.

"Don't know, brother, but if she's still with Harry we know she's all right," George replied.

"Is she, George?" Fred asked, his tone changing to one of mock seriousness. "Because I have to say, Harry's seemed as though he..."

"Likes our little sister quite a lot," George supplied helpfully, as Harry and Ginny continued putting themselves back together and stowed the Invisibility Cloak securely in Harry's pocket. "We'll have to keep an eye on that one, Fred."

"We do have those new sensors for the shop that need testing," Fred mused. "You know, the ones that detect -"

"When you two are finished," Ginny interrupted in a loud voice, peering down at her brothers from the trap door, "Harry and I can come down."

"What's that, dear sister?" George asked, peering up into the trapdoor. "You say Harry's up there with you, is he? Tell him to come down!"

Ginny climbed carefully down the ladder, Harry right behind her. As soon as his feet had hit the snow, he opened his mouth to explain. "Ginny and I were just...just..."

"We were just having a snog," Ginny finished for him calmly, and all three males gaped at her. "Not that it is any of your business what we do or where we do it, mind you."

It seemed as though Ginny had rendered her brothers at least temporarily speechless, and she did not give any of them a chance to recover as she turned haughtily from all of them and strode out of the clearing, pulling on her wrinkled and wet cloak as she left.

Harry was about to follow when he felt a rough tug at his elbow, and he found himself face-to-face with two identical Weasleys, their faces more serious than he had ever seen them.

"Listen, mate, you're like our brother," George began, any traces of amusement gone from his voice.

"But if you ever do even one thing that hurts her," Fred continued, looking at Harry almost menacingly.

"We'll forget who you are, and you'll find yourself in more trouble than even bloody You-Know-Who could cause for you," George finished, and they nodded in unison.

"Guys," Harry began, but found that he didn't know quite what to say.

"Just don't forget it, Harry," said Fred in his normal, cheery voice. "Come on, blokes, Mum's fixing dinner and if Ginny gets back too far ahead of us, they'll think we've been up to something."

"Right you are, brother," George agreed. "Coming, Harry?"

Harry shook his head as he walked with the twins back to the Burrow. It had certainly been quite a day, but he couldn't help but notice that Voldemort and his Death Eaters had not even entered his mind the entire time he had been with Ginny.

* * *

  
Despite everyone's insistence to the contrary, Harry still waited until Ron had fallen to sleep and then performed his usual silencing charm. No matter what anyone said, the fact of the matter was that he had held his wand on Ron, and he was simply not willing to risk it again.

Harry was pleasantly surprised when he woke up after a dream-free sleep on Christmas morning to Ron's cheerful call of "presents downstairs, mate! Let's go!" Harry pulled on his dressing-gown and followed Ron down into the cheerfully decorated and warm Weasley lounge, which was already packed with the Weasleys and Moony.

Too late, Harry realized that he had not cast the counter-charm on himself. He was extremely grateful when Remus seemed to notice his predicament and quickly and quietly aimed his wand at Harry's throat and restored his voice, giving him a semi-reproachful look as he did so but unwilling to say anything to him on Christmas.

The day was extremely pleasant. Everyone opened their gifts, including their traditional Weasley jumpers, had an enormous brunch, and passed the afternoon out-of-doors throwing snowballs at each other and cursing at the older Weasley boys, who were unfairly using magic against Ron, Ginny, and Harry, who were bound by the Decree for the Restriction of Underage Wizardry.

After yet another large and delicious meal later that night, the twins headed to the flat over their shop in Diagon Alley and the rest headed to their rooms, groggy and befuddled, with too much rich food making them sleepy. Harry only barely remembered to cast his silencing charm before he fell into a deep sleep on his camp cot in Ron's room.

* * *

  
When Molly Weasley woke early the next morning and went downstairs to begin preparations for breakfast, she was startled to see the top of a head of unkempt black hair sitting at the kitchen table. Harry was usually the last to come to breakfast in the morning, and she hoped he was all right. It was really not fair, all the things he had been made to experience.

"Harry, dear," Molly said softly, reaching out to touch him on the shoulder as she neared the table. "Are you all right?"

Harry didn't respond, and Molly quickly sat down next to him. When she pried his hands away from his face, she was immensely surprised to find Harry's face blotched, swollen, and smeared with tears, as if he had been crying for hours.

"Harry, what's happened?" Molly asked in a voice of forced calm. Harry opened his mouth to speak, but he did not know how to say what he had seen. Unintentionally, he stared at the Weasley's family clock, which was resting on the counter in front of him. Molly turned to follow the direction of his gaze, and her scream pierced the sleepy quiet of the Burrow.

One of the hands on the clock had gone black.


	29. Half of One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How do you survive the loss of someone who always made you smile...someone who seemed like the better half of yourself?

Harry went to bed Christmas night feeling almost completely happy. It had been his best Christmas ever. Christmas Eve had passed with no visions of murder and mayhem, giving him a peaceful night's sleep, and he had woken to Christmas presents, festivities, and most important of all, the people he considered his family: the Weasleys and Remus Lupin. As he settled comfortably into his camp cot, he cast his silencing charm casually, not expecting to need it that night. He thought that there was very little else he could ask for in this life, and he fell almost immediately into the deep sleep brought on only by good times and too much good food.  
  
It was nearly five a.m. when Harry's sleep was interrupted by the flashes of green and red light that he had come to associate with the beginning of his visions of Voldemort's cruelty. Almost immediately, however, he realized that this one was different than the others; it was clear that this time, rather than an attack on an unsuspecting Muggle family, a battle was being waged. A battle with two sides...a battle between Death Eaters and wizards. Harry, once again trapped behind Voldemort's eyes, watched in horror as one of his greatest fears came to life: once again, Voldemort was attacking Harry's family, for it had quickly become clear as the setting materialized that the battle was taking place in a location that he held almost as dear as Hogwarts or the Burrow, a location that he had helped build, a location that brought laughter to so many through the hard times brought on by war. The battle was taking place on Diagon Alley, inside Weasley's Wizard Wheezes.  
  


> _A young wizard in a brilliant red dressing gown ran down the stairs, no sign of sleepiness about him besides his tousled red hair, his wand held at the ready. Harry hardly recognized George Weasley. The young man's usually cheerful face was screwed up with determination and rage, and he began firing spells as soon as the Death Eaters attacking his shop came into view._
> 
> _"Stupefy!" he yelled, his wand pointed at a masked Death Eater who was attempting to get past him and up the stairs. The Death Eater went down, but before George had time to react, four spells were shot at him from different directions, and he was forced to defend himself rather than attack._
> 
> _"Protego!" George cried, and Harry felt a surge of pride for the former DA member as the jets of light hit the George's invisible barrier and bounced back towards their originators, who quickly dodged. A tremendous crash sounded as the errant spells hit shelves of Fred and George's joke merchandise._
> 
> _"You'll pay for that!" called a new voice from the middle of the small stairwell, and Harry's viewpoint changed as Voldemort turned to the source of the new sound._
> 
> _"Tarantellegra!" Fred shouted, pointing his wand at the back of the Death Eater who was dueling directly with George. The spell hit its mark, and the Death Eater's legs began to dance out of control._
> 
> _"Stupefy!" George pointed his wand at the man. The dancing stopped immediately and the man dropped to the ground, stunned. "Don't mess around, Fred!" he shouted. "Take them down!"_
> 
> _"Incarcerous!" Long ropes flew out of the tip of Fred's wand, binding the stunned Death Eater, and George followed suit with the still-stunned Death Eater from his first spell at the bottom of the stairs._
> 
> _Before Fred and George had turned from the two felled Death Eaters, three more appeared from behind a shelf of fake wands, and spells began to fly between the twins and their foes. Harry's sense of sick foreboding gave way to fierce pride as the twins, working as a flawless team, fought and matched all three Death Eaters. It helped that they were on their own turf, as they were familiar with the products on the shelf and not hesitant to use them._
> 
> _"This one looks like he wants to skive off his classes, Fred!" George called, continuing to duel with one Death Eater while indicating another, who was advancing upon him._
> 
> _"Right you are, George," Fred responded, pointing his wand at the display that held brightly colored double-ended sweet, and then at the advancing Death Eater. "Waddiwasi!"_
> 
> _A purple sweet shot out of the display case and its wrapper and forced itself straight through the Death Eater's mask and down his throat. Immediately, blood began pour from underneath the mask, and the man behind it was only able to muster an easily deflected "Diffindo" before collapsing on the floor._
> 
> _"Good thing we strengthened those up, isn't it?" George asked cheerfully as he dodged another jet of red light._
> 
> _"Petrificus Totalus!" The jet of purple light hit George squarely in the chest, and his arms and legs snapped straight as he fell, the grin frozen grotesquely on his face, his eyes unable to blink._
> 
> _"George!" Fred yelled, racing towards his brother. "Impedimenta!" he cried, shooting the spell over his shoulder. It connected with the Death Eater on his tail, and there was another loud crash as the man shot backwards and slammed into a wall of Invisibility Hats. Harry could not help but notice how odd the man looked with various chunks of his body invisible as the comical hats showered over him. "Reducto!" Fred continued, again aiming the spell over his shoulder. The shelf above the Death Eater broke apart and collapsed, burying the man in rubble and brightly colored merchandise._
> 
> _"Stupefy!" The Death Eater who had petrified George turned his attention to Fred as he quickly raised a shield to deflect the spell._
> 
> _"Crucio!"_
> 
> _Just in time, Fred dropped to the ground. The Unforgivable Spell went over his head, reducing the shelves behind them to dust. He used the moment of surprise to aim a stunner at the Death Eater, who immediately fell to the ground. Unfortunately, Fred did not see the large chunk of ceiling begin to fall towards him. Before he had a chance to react it hit him on the head, leaving him momentarily confused._
> 
> _Harry surveyed the scene with a growing amount of fear. Five Death Eaters down, George petrified, and Fred still reeling from a knock to the head – it would have seemed like a victory, but what the twins did not know was that Voldemort himself was waiting, carefully concealed with three of his most loyal followers._
> 
> _"Ah, yes," Voldemort said softly to the three Death Eaters waiting alongside him. "They are twins, are they not? Dolohov, take the first. Leave him petrified – but make sure he is able to see what happens to those who openly defy Lord Voldemort. Bellatrix, the other is yours, my most loyal follower, and to you I give license to do with him what you wish. Malfoy, you will see that we remain undetected. You cast the appropriate charms, I take it?"_
> 
> _"Yes, my Lord," Malfoy answered dutifully as Dolohov lifted the still-petrified George with little effort and propped him up against the counter._
> 
> _Bellatrix advanced slowly, cat-like, on Fred, her wand still at the ready. As Fred blinked and opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was George, propped weirdly against the front counter, and as he tried to jump up, Bellatrix began her attack._
> 
> _"Crucio!"_
> 
> _Fred dropped to his knees, his screams echoing through the destroyed store._
> 
> _Harry's insides boiled with rage that he did not bother trying to control and hopelessness threatened to overwhelm him. He tried unsuccessfully to wake himself up, hoping upon hope that if he could, he could get help in time. He remained, however, trapped behind the eyes of the most evil wizard of all time._
> 
> _Bellatrix lifted the spell and Fred shakily got to his feet, his eyes ablaze with pain and defiance, and raised his wand to point it not at Bellatrix, but at Dolohov, his brother's tormentor._
> 
> _"You fool!" Voldemort spat as he waved his wand, sending Fred's flying to the other side of the shop. Fred looked straight at him without fear. "You cannot save him now, or yourself. It is time the blood traitors learn what it means to defy Lord Voldemort. Bellatrix, continue the lesson."_
> 
> _"Diffindo!" Bellatrix purred the incantation almost lovingly as she swept her wand in a slashing motion over Fred's chest. Fred did not scream as blood began to pour from the laceration which now ran diagonally across his entire torso. Instead, he continued to gaze unblinkingly at Voldemort, a slow grin beginning to spread over his face even as the color drained from his skin._
> 
> _"What are you smiling at?" Bellatrix demanded, raising her wand once again._
> 
> _"Him," Fred said weakly but clearly, nodding his head towards Voldemort. "Your ‘master,' isn't he?"_
> 
> _"Do not dare to mock the Dark Lord," Bellatrix whispered, moving threateningly closer to Fred, her wand even with his heart._
> 
> _"Mock him?" Fred actually laughed, although by this point he had become so weak he could hardly make himself heard. "He's a coward. He doesn't have the guts to attack Harry Potter or Dumbledore, so he goes after Muggles, and not just any Muggles – women and children."_
> 
> _"You dare...you..." Bellatrix seemed to be too angry to complete her thought as she raised her wand once more. Harry's heart broke as she uttered the words of the most unforgivable of the Unforgivable Curses. "Avada Kedavra!"_
> 
> _The jet of green light raced towards Fred, who never tore his gaze from the face of Lord Voldemort. Soundlessly, he fell._
> 
> _"Finish the other one," Voldemort ordered Dolohov, and Harry's line of sight changed as they walked through the rubble of the store and outside onto a still-sleeping Diagon Alley._
> 
> _"Do not cast the Mark," Voldemort ordered Malfoy. "Leave their bodies to be found at first light, as a lesson to those who would challenge me."  
> _

  
Harry woke silently in the small bedroom he shared with Ron, his face streaming with tears, his voice once again raw from silent screams. He knew he had to alert the Weasleys or Lupin...but he couldn't bring himself to do it just yet. The twins were dead. Nothing would change that, and the news would tear the Weasley family apart. Outside Ron's window, the sky was just beginning to take on the paleness of first light, and Harry headed blindly down to the kitchen, out of habit more than anything else. He hardly noticed his own tears as he stumbled down the stairs, and his eyes saw nothing until he felt the soft hand of Mrs. Weasley on his shoulder only a moment later.  
  


* * *

  
Harry shook his head in disbelief as Mrs. Weasley screamed, and he had to glance at the clock again before he believed what he had seen. How could he have been so stupid? The hand which had once borne Fred's name had gone black, but even now, the hand bearing George's was pointed steadily at "mortal peril." George was still alive!  
  
"Mrs. Weasley!" Harry shouted, grabbing her arm. "Listen to me!" It took him a moment to understand why no sound came out. He desperately cast the counter-charm and repeated himself.  
  
Molly did not respond immediately as her scream ceased. For a moment, she simply stared at the clock in disbelief, her face pale.  
  
"Mrs. Weasley!" Harry shouted again, shaking her slightly.  
  
"Harry!" Arthur Weasley shouted as he came running into the room, his thin hair disheveled, rubbing sleep from his eyes. "What's happened? Molly? What's wrong?" He went immediately to her.  
  
"Fred," Molly whispered, pointing to the clock. As Arthur saw the black hand that used to bear the name of his third son, he sank into a chair, holding his wife's hand.  
  
Before Harry had a chance to continue shouting, Remus Lupin, also looking as though he had been woken from a very deep sleep, hurried into the room.  
  
"Moony!" Harry shouted urgently. "Listen to me! You've got to get to Diagon Alley, to the shop! George is still alive! Voldemort –”  
  
"Harry!" Lupin interrupted, taking him by the shoulders. "What's happened?"  
  
"Voldemort attacked Fred and George's shop!" Harry said desperately. "You have to get there! George is still alive, look!" He pointed at George's hand on the clock, which was still pointed at "mortal peril."  
  
"Arthur!" Lupin said firmly. "We've got to go! Molly, get Dumbledore and Tonks, and any other Order member you can raise."  
  
Arthur, having finally realized what was happening, jumped up to follow Lupin as Mrs. Weasley nodded numbly and sprang up to go to the kitchen fire. She grabbed her wand and shot the silvery signal from it, and did not hesitate before she threw Floo powder into the grate and stuck her head in. As she did this, Harry heard the distinctive "pops" that surely meant that Lupin, Arthur, Bill and Charlie had disapparated.  
  
"Harry?" asked a soft voice behind him, and he turned, his heart heavy, to face Ginny and Ron, who were standing at the foot of the stairs, staring in horror at the family clock. For a moment, all they could do was stare at one another, and then Ginny suddenly burst into tears and ran past Harry into the arms of her mother, who had just emerged from the fire.  
  
Ron sat down heavily at the kitchen table, his face pale, staring blankly straight ahead. Harry joined him, but Molly and Ginny remained standing, their arms wrapped around one another, Ginny's body shaking with silent sobs, Molly's face lined with grief but stoic, holding on for the sake of her other children.  
  
It seemed like an eternity passed before the fire burned green and Remus Lupin spun into the grate. He crossed directly to Molly and put two shaky hands on her shoulders. Harry noticed that his hands and sleeves were bloodstained, and he glanced uneasily at the clock.  
  
"Molly," Lupin said softly, "we got there in time to get George. He was being held by Bellatrix Lestrange and Antoin Dolohov, but they disapparated before we could capture them. He's very badly hurt, and Arthur, Bill and Charlie are on their way to St. Mungo's with him now."  
  
"He's not going to...to..." Mrs. Weasley couldn't say the word as she looked pleadingly into Lupin's grave face.  
  
"It's too early to tell," Lupin said gently. "Arthur suggested that I bring you and the others to the hospital straight away."  
  
"And Fred?" Molly asked weakly. Even though she already knew the answer, she needed to hear it confirmed before she could believe it.  
  
"I'm so sorry, Molly," Lupin whispered, his voice breaking for the first time that day.  
  


* * *

  
Harry and Ron dressed as quickly as they could, not speaking to one another as they pulled on mismatched robes and socks. They did not bother to comb their hair, but ran down the stairs at top speed the very second they had laced their trainers. They nearly ran into Ginny on the way down, and all three of them burst into the kitchen, where Mrs. Weasley was standing, fully dressed, her hand already in the pot of Floo Powder. She remained silent as she threw a handful of glittering powder into the flames, stepped in, shouted "St. Mungo's," and spun away out of sight. Ron and then Ginny followed her, but before Harry could take a handful of powder himself, he felt a hand on his shoulder.  
  
"Harry," Remus Lupin said seriously. "We need to talk. Professor Dumbledore will be joining us shortly."  
  
"But St. Mungo's - " Harry began.  
  
"It's going to be some time before we know anything," Lupin interrupted, "and Molly knew I would be keeping you behind."  
  
Harry nodded numbly. He should have been expecting this, he supposed.  
  
"You saw what happened, didn't you, Harry?" Lupin asked, sitting down at the kitchen table and motioning for Harry to be seated across from him.  
  
Harry nodded at him, pulling the chair out from the table, resigned to telling the story. He knew this would not be the last time he would have to do so.  
  
Harry and his guardian sat in silence for a few moments before they heard the tell-tale "pop" from the direction of the lounge. They were surprised, however, when the first pop was followed by another slightly louder one. They did not have to wonder long, however; in one moment's time, Dumbledore swept into the kitchen, followed closely by a very grave Professor McGonagall.  
  
"Harry," Dumbledore said, inclining his head towards Harry, who noticed that, not only was their usual twinkle gone, but they were heavy and sad.  
  
"Professor," Harry replied hoarsely. He didn't know what else he was supposed to say.  
  
"Mr. Potter," McGonagall said, and she made a motion towards him as if she wanted to offer him some comfort, but remained where she was. Her eyes were over bright, as if she had been or was trying not to cry.  
  
Harry nodded at her, but said nothing.  
  
"Professors," Lupin greeted them solemnly. "Please, have a seat."  
  
"Tea?" Dumbledore inquired politely, and without waiting for an answer, he waved his wand, conjuring a large silver teapot and four cups. Another wave of his wand, and the tea service began serving them one by one.  
  
"Harry," Lupin began, looking intently at him across the table. "The first thing I want to say to you is that no matter what you saw, no matter what happened, this is not your fault. You did nothing wrong."  
  
"It is imperative when one is taking part in a war," Dumbledore said softly and seriously, "to remember that casualties are bound to occur. It is inevitable, Harry. What you must also remember is that each and every one of us is fighting by choice. Our side does not coerce obedience by threats and trickery, and we do not force our members to do anything they would not otherwise choose to do. Fred and George Weasley knew the risks of joining the Order, and they took them on willingly." The Headmaster's voice broke slightly as he said the twins' names, and he looked away slightly as he blinked his eyes several times in succession. Professor McGonagall was also forced to take a moment to control her emotions, but Lupin spoke straight through his own, his voice laced with grief as he addressed Harry.  
  
"Harry, you have to remember that you were not actually there. I know you wanted to fight, I know you would have done anything you could have to change things, but the fact of the matter is that you had no ability to take any kind of control in that situation. I repeat: there is nothing you could have done."  
  
"I tried to wake up," Harry whispered. "When Bellatrix was coming at Fred, I tried to wake up so I could do something, but I couldn't."  
  
"Why could he not wake himself, Albus?" Remus asked. "It seems as though, with that level of awareness as well as Harry's skill in Occlumency, he would have been able to pull himself out of the vision."  
  
"I believe that under normal circumstances, he certainly would have been able to," Dumbledore replied. "However, Voldemort's emotions run so high during these attacks, this one in particular, that the tie was too strong even for someone as skilled as Harry to break. It is fortunate, however, that his Occlumency skills have become great enough that Voldemort is no longer aware of the intrusion, and that Harry himself is no longer forced to experience Voldemort's emotions in the manner he was forced to last year."  
  
"It didn't matter that I couldn't feel his emotions!" Harry interjected, his voice cracking bitterly.  
  
"I know, Harry," Lupin said gently. "I can't even imagine what it must have been like for you."  
  
"Potter," Professor McGonagall said in a kind tone, "is there anything at all we can say or do to help you?"  
  
Harry stared at her in surprise. This was not the Professor McGonagall he was accustomed to. Her tone of voice was gentle, almost motherly, as she looked at him with sadness etching her face. He was so surprised, as a matter of fact, that he could not reply to her.  
  
"Just remember," McGonagall continued, "that the members of the Order are there to assist you if you need it. You are not in this alone."  
  
Harry nodded at her, still rather taken aback by her unusual attitude.  
  
"And now, Harry, I am afraid it is time to do what we must do," Dumbledore said softly. "I know you are hurting, but we must know what happened this morning on Diagon Alley. Will you tell us?"  
  
Harry's stomach turned and a lump rose into his throat as he began to speak. At some point during the tale, Lupin got up from his seat and went to stand behind Harry, placing his hands on his shoulders as a sign of comfort and solidarity.  
  
No one interrupted him as he spoke of the events that had taken place only hours before. Occasionally, Lupin squeezed his shoulders comfortingly, and when Harry got to the end of the battle in which he described Fred's defiance through torture and death, Professor McGonagall also left her seat and stood beside Harry, placing a hand on his shoulder next to Lupin's.  
  
"After Voldemort told Dolohov to kill George," Harry concluded, his voice hard and still hoarse, "he left, and I guess he disapparated. That's when I woke up. I thought both of the twins were dead. I came downstairs. I was trying to figure out how I was going to tell Mr. and Mrs. Weasley when Mrs. Weasley came downstairs, and I saw the clock and realized that George was still alive." Harry's voice began to rise. "If I hadn't been so stupid, we might have gotten to George sooner. We might have –”  
  
"Harry, stop," Lupin said firmly, moving to sit beside Harry, and holding his chin to force Harry to look at him. "What counts is that you did alert us in time. We got to George, and we hope he is going to make a full recovery. However, even if he does not, you did every single thing that you could do. None of this is your fault."  
  
"I waited too long, Moony," Harry said, looking his guardian straight in the eyes. "If Mrs. Weasley hadn't come down right after I did, I never would have even seen the clock."  
  
"But you did see it, Harry, and you did not wait so long. We reached the shop only a couple of minutes after Fred's death. Not much time had passed at all," Lupin said fervently, knowing that if Harry continued down this course of guilt, he would begin to self-destruct, opening him up to attack, just like what had happened following Sirius's death.  
  
Before Harry could reply, the fireplace burned green and Hermione stepped out of the fire, her bushy hair wild, a frantic expression on her face.  
  
"Professor Lupin!" she cried, not bothering to brush the ash off her cloak before she crossed the kitchen to him. "What's happened? I got a message from you saying I ought to come as quickly as possible. What's going on? Harry? Are you all right? Are you hurt? Have you seen another attack? What –”  
  
"Hermione," Lupin interrupted, turning to her. "Slow down." Hermione looked at all of them in some confusion.  
  
"It's Fred, Hermione," Harry said with great difficulty.  
  
"Fred?" Hermione asked, her eyes already filling with tears.  
  
"Voldemort and eight Death Eaters attacked Fred and George's shop early today," Dumbledore said heavily. "Bellatrix Lestrange killed Fred Weasley at approximately five o'clock this morning." Hearing it stated so plainly caused Harry a jolt of pain and rage. He hated Bellatrix Lestrange more than he had ever hated anyone in his life, with the exception of Voldemort himself.  
  
Hermione's face was now streaked with tears, but she whispered, "George?"  
  
"He is alive, Miss Granger," Professor McGonagall answered, still in her unnaturally gentle voice. "Mr. Potter alerted the Weasleys and Professor Lupin, and the Order arrived on Diagon Alley in time to take Mr. Weasley to St. Mungo's."  
  
"Where's Ron?" Hermione asked.  
  
"St. Mungo's," Lupin answered. "Harry and I were about to join the Weasleys there. Would you like to accompany us?"  
  
Hermione nodded through her tears, and when Harry stood up, she immediately went to him and wrapped him in a tight hug. "Oh, Harry," she said, starting to cry in earnest. Harry felt the lump in his throat grow larger, and he struggled to contain himself as he patted Hermione awkwardly on the back.  
  
One after the other, Harry, Hermione, Lupin, Dumbledore, and McGonagall reached into the pot of Floo Powder and sped through the grates to St. Mungo's hospital.  
  


* * *

  
The small waiting room outside the Critical Care Wing of St. Mungo's was a sea of bright red hair as the Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Bill, Charlie, Ron, and Ginny paced anxiously, their faces lined with grief and worry. After Mr. Weasley had told them what he knew about George's condition, none of them talked. They simply paced, occasionally stopping to offer comfort to one another, and hoped beyond hope that George would survive.  
  
When Dumbledore, Lupin, McGonagall, Harry and Hermione arrived from the Burrow nearly an hour later, there had still been little news.  
  
"The Death Eaters used the Cruciatus curse on George," Mr. Weasley told them, his voice cracking. "They did it without taking the body bind off of him. As we came in, Bellatrix Lestrange used the Diffindo curse...just like...just like she did on Fred..." Tears once again fell down the usually jovial face of Mr. Weasley as he thought of his sons, one who was beyond saving, and one who may not even have the will to live without his brother. "He lost a lot of blood, and..." he trailed off, not even attempting to stifle his emotion.  
  
Harry shuddered, remembering only too well the pain of the Cruciatus curse from the end of his fourth year at Hogwarts, when he had watched Lord Voldemort resume his bodily form. He could not imagine having the curse performed on him while his body was paralyzed.  
  
"Any word on his condition now, Arthur?" Lupin asked as Molly joined them, her face pale and without expression.  
  
"The Healers are having trouble reversing the body bind," Arthur continued, putting his arm around Molly and pulling her close. "They have not seen the effects of the combination of those two spells before, and they are having trouble finding the correct counter-curse. He lost so much blood that the blood-replenishing potions are not working fast enough. His condition is very serious," he finished brokenly.  
  
At this, Hermione crossed to Ron and led him away from the adults, putting her arms gently around his waist and pulling him to her. This gesture was all that was needed to break the dam of grief and worry that had lodged itself in the teenaged boy's chest, and Ron's body began to shake in huge, racking sobs as he bent to bury his face in Hermione's neck to hide his tears from the rest.  
  
Harry went to Ginny as well, but when he attempted to put his arms around her, she stiffened involuntarily, and rather than giving into her emotions as she had in her mother's arms, she returned Harry's hug awkwardly and without any real warmth. Harry pulled away and tried to look into her eyes, tried to see what was wrong, but she would not look straight at him, instead focusing on some point over his left shoulder.  
  
Ginny did not stay with Harry for long, never looking at him as she broke the embrace and returned to her mother's side. Harry stood awkwardly next to Lupin. He loved the Weasleys like family, but in a moment like this, he knew there was no comfort he could offer anyone, even Ginny. He kept his face stoic as they waited, refusing to give into the howl of rage and despair that was trying to fight its way up his throat, hoping with the rest that the Order had arrived in time to save one twin.  
  
It seemed as though hours passed while they waited in silence. At one point, Professor McGonagall departed and returned with a tray of sandwiches and a jug of pumpkin juice, but no one could eat and the sandwiches began to grow stale before Lupin waved his wand and they vanished.  
  
A little past noon, the doors to the small waiting room began to creak slowly open, and every pair of eyes in the room shifted in that direction. They hoped to see the Healer in charge of George's care, but they also dreaded seeing her, knowing that she could be the bearer of horrible tidings as easily as good ones. So tense was the environment that for a moment nobody responded as a young man with well-kept red hair and immaculately pressed business robes walked slowly into the room.  
  
No trace of the usual smugness was present on the pale face of Percy Weasley as he visibly gulped, looking into the grief- and worry-stricken eyes of his parents, brothers and sister. No one spoke or moved, until Percy seemed to gather himself just enough to whisper, "I just heard. Mother...Father..." Percy did not cry, but it was easily apparent that he was as shocked and grief-stricken as the rest, perhaps even more shocked since he had not been kept privy to the goings-on of the Order, and may not have even known that Fred and George had joined up.  
  
Before Mr. or Mrs. Weasley could react, a roar of rage issued from the opposite corner of the room, where Ron had been sitting with Hermione. He moved so quickly that his hair seemed only a streak of red as he barreled across the room.  
  
"You!" Ron yelled fiercely. "You bloody, stinking, good-for-nothing coward!" He flung himself at Percy, and before anyone could stop him, landed a hard punch across Percy's face, sending his glasses flying to the floor.  
  
Harry, his reflexes honed from his hours of training with Tonks and Kingsley Shacklebolt, was the first to reach Ron, only a fraction of a second too late to stop him from hitting his brother at all. He grabbed the back of Ron's robes and pulled him away from Percy, who was standing stock-still, ignoring the small stream of blood which was now streaming from his nose.  
  
"Percy?" Mrs. Weasley asked weakly, but before she could continue, the waiting room door opened again.  
  
"Mr. and Mrs. Weasley?" the assistant Healer inquired, ignoring the obvious tension in the room. "You may see him now."  
  
So great was Mrs. Weasley's need to see George that she took Mr. Weasley's arm and followed the Healer from the room without another glance at Percy or any of the others.  
  


* * *

  
"He's awake," the Healer told Mr. and Mrs. Weasley as they hurried down the long corridor. "The body bind has been partially removed, allowing him to speak and move his head, and the blood-replenishing potions have done their work. The damage from the Diffindo curse was easily repaired, but the effects of the Cruciatus combined with the Full Body-Bind are quite serious."  
  
Mrs. Weasley gasped.  
  
"However, we believe your son will make a full recovery with time," the Healer continued as they stopped in front of a heavy-looking wooden door. Mrs. Weasley buried her face in her husband's chest as she sobbed in relief. The Healer allowed her a moment to pull herself together; in her short career in the Critical Care Wing of St. Mungo's, she had grown quite accustomed to moments like these.  
  
"Mr. and Mrs. Weasley," the Healer continued, reaching out to stop them before Molly could move to open the door to George's room. "Your son needs your assurances right now. The death of his twin has affected him gravely, and if he is to make a full recovery, he has to be convinced of the need to continue fighting."  
  
At the mention of Fred's death, both Mr. and Mrs. Weasley's eyes filled once again with tears, but their faces remained determined. They had to help their living son now. They both knew there would be time to mourn Fred...a lifetime of time to mourn him, for he would never return to them. Their focus now had to be on the remaining twin, the one who would have to learn how to live without the brother from whom he had never been separated.  
  
Nodding seriously at the Healer, Arthur stepped forward and opened the door to George's room. Grasping his wife's hand, he entered the room, and the last thing the young Healer saw before the door swung magically shut were the concerned expressions on the face of each parent. She admired Molly and Arthur Weasley for the strength they would show to their son. She had seen many parents in similar situations fall apart in grief for the dead, paying little to no attention to the living, who would inevitably fade into a pattern of grief and guilt, and never again live a full life. The Healer could feel the strength coming from Molly Weasley, and she smiled slightly as she walked back to the Healer's Quarters. It would take time, but she knew George Weasley would not suffer that fate.


	30. Learning to Live Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the aftermath of Fred's death, the Weasley family and those closest to them have to try hard to go on with their lives. Strength, however, seems to run strong in the Weasley blood, and the return of one of their number will go a long way in helping everyone.

The waiting room fell silent as Mr. and Mrs. Weasley followed the Healer through the double doors and down the corridor to George's room. Relief was palpable in the air because everyone knew that if George had made it this far and if their parents were being allowed to see him, he was most likely out of danger. As the doors swung shut behind them, the attention of those in the room returned to the newcomer.  
  
"Hello, Percy," Lupin said quietly.  
  
No one else in the room seemed particularly happy to see the ambitious young businesswizard, but Lupin avoided all of their eyes and looked straight at Percy, his gaze one of compassion rather than condemnation.  
  
"Professor Lupin," Percy responded shakily, bending to retrieve his glasses from the floor and repairing them with a slight wave of his wand. "Is it true about...about Fred?"  
  
"Yes," Lupin answered heavily. "Fred was killed early this morning." Once again, Lupin's voice broke as he said the words, and he reached out and grasped Harry's shoulder as if he felt a sudden need to be in physical contact.  
  
The effect of the former professor's words on Percy was obvious. His already pale face lost whatever color it had left, and he staggered backwards as if from a blow. He looked from one redheaded, freckled face to the next, looking for comfort, for absolution. He found little, but saw only faces that mirrored his own in their grief and horror. His eyes finally rested on Harry, who was startled to note a desperate, almost pleading gleam to them.  
  
This did not seem to be the same Percy who had sent back his Christmas jumper the previous year, or the same Percy who had sent Ron a letter warning him against further association with Harry. This Percy was every inch a Weasley, needing to be with the others, especially when something had happened to one of their own. This was the Percy who had hurried off to send an owl to his parents when Ginny had been taken into the Chamber of Secrets, and this was the Percy who had stayed up all night with the rest of them, waiting and hoping that Harry and Ron would bring her back.  
  
It was this final thought which moved Harry to forgive Percy of all that he had done. No matter what had transpired in the previous year, two facts were certain: this was war, and the Weasleys were family. He glanced up at Lupin, who nodded slightly as if he had read Harry's mind and released his hold on the young man's shoulder.  
  
His mind made up, Harry strode forward, avoiding eye contact with Ron, who was staring at him in stunned disbelief. As he reached Percy, he stuck out his right hand and looked him straight in the eye. He did not smile, but neither did his face hold any hostility.  
  
Percy took a moment to recover before he reached out shook Harry's hand. "Thank you," he whispered.  
  
Harry nodded at him and returned to his place beside Remus Lupin. Bill, Charlie, Ron and Ginny stood silently and still for a few moments, glancing at one another uncertainly. It could not have been clearer that they were unsure of what to do about Percy. If he had shown up at any other time, the other Weasley children would happily have hexed him into next week, but with the loss of Fred so horridly fresh and the grief so overpowering, they knew that they needed togetherness.  
  
Ginny was the one who finally broke the strange stillness. Giving her other brothers a glance clearly warning them not to say one word against what she was about to do, she squared her shoulders and approached Percy. She did not bother to wipe the tears from her face as she stopped right in front of him, and for a moment they simply stared at one another. Finally, with a strangled sort of sound, Ginny threw her arms around her brother's neck and wrapped him in a bone-crunching hug. It caught Percy so much by surprise that he took a moment to respond, but when he did it was with such sincerity that everyone in the room was taken aback. Percy, who had never been very affectionate, was hugging his little sister back so fiercely that his arms where shaking.  
  
Although the Weasley boys did not seem quite as eager to forgive Percy, there was no hostility that afternoon, and all of them, especially Charlie, became warmer towards him as they waited for their parents to return from George's room.  
  
A full two hours passed before the double doors opened once again to reveal Molly Weasley, her eyes bloodshot, her face pale but still stoic. She knew she still had children to care for, children who needed her to be strong for them, children who needed her reassurance. With these thoughts at the forefront of her mind, she smiled weakly at the waiting faces and waved off Albus Dumbledore as he courteously offered her the chair in which he had been sitting.  
  
"No thank you, Professor Dumbledore," she said softly, and then turned her gaze to the others. Her eyes gleamed with unshed tears, but her voice did not break as she told them, "George is expected to make a complete recovery. He needs to rest today, but you may all see him tomorrow morning. Your father is with him now."  
  
Bill, Charlie, Ron and Ginny all gathered around their mother, softly asking questions even as they reached out to offer and to receive comfort. Percy hung awkwardly back, once taking half a step towards them before he stopped, trying not to look at his family. Harry almost felt sorry for him, but even though he had already forgiven Percy's misdeeds from the previous year, he could not help but think that Percy deserved to know what it felt like to be the one excluded. He would have to earn the trust of his family once again, and from the looks of things, it was not going to be easy.  
  
Mrs. Weasley, however, had different ideas. She broke away from the others after only a couple of seconds, turned, and wrapped Percy in a motherly hug. She didn't speak, but she held him for longer than usual, rocking slightly, the top of her head barely reaching the tall young man's chin.  
  
"Mother, I..." Percy began.  
  
"Shhh," Mrs. Weasley interrupted him, finally breaking away and looking up into his eyes, holding both of his hands. "None of that matters now. All that matters is that you're here...you're safe." As she said these words, she thought of the son she had lost that morning, and the tears threatened to spill over. Her chin quivered for a moment, but instead of crying, she smiled at Percy and squeezed his hands.  
  
As the tears fell freely down Percy's face, Mrs. Weasley beckoned to Bill, Charlie, Ron and Ginny. Harry hung back as they all gathered once again around their mother, but when Molly noticed that he had not joined them, she pulled him gently aside.  
  
"Harry," she said, looking straight into his green eyes, "thank you for saving George." She pulled him into a hug, and when he tried to speak through the lump in his throat, she whispered, "If it hadn't been for you, we would have lost both of them." She hugged him again and turned away so he would not see the grief to reveal itself on her face.  
  
Molly Weasley felt as though she would die from the pain of the loss of her fourth-born son, but as she returned to the others, no sign of weakness showed on her face. She would be strong for her children.  
  


***

  
George was released from St. Mungo's three days later, his blood having finally been replenished to the Healer's satisfaction and the results of the combined curses seeming to have worn off. Other than a slight limp, he was in perfect physical health.  
  
His spirit, however, had suffered a blow far worse than the injuries his body had sustained. From the moment of conception, George had never been without his twin for more than a short amount of time. They had always functioned as one, had done everything together – most people could not even tell them apart. Whatever pain was being felt by the rest of the Weasleys, including Molly, was not even a fraction of the hurt that was coursing through George's soul, for he had not only lost a brother, but a part of himself as well.  
  
Fred Weasley was buried in a small, simple ceremony in the Weasley family graveyard only a short distance from the Burrow. If the funeral had been announced, there was no doubt that the small pasture behind the Weasley home would have been filled with hundreds of mourners, for Fred and George had always been immensely popular and had grown even more as their joke shop became a success. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, however, had conferred and had decided that such a large crowd would be too much for George, who had only just been released from St. Mungo's.  
  
As Fred was laid to rest on the snowy morning of December thirtieth, the only people in attendance were the eight remaining Weasleys, Harry Potter, Hermione Granger and the members of the Order of the Phoenix who had been closest to the family: Remus Lupin, Minerva McGonagall, Nymphadora Tonks, Kingsley Shacklebolt and Albus Dumbledore. Although the family knew that friends such as Lee Jordan would want to pay final respects, they felt that with events unfolding as they were, it was better to keep things small. Apart from George's condition, any sort of large gathering would be certain to attract Voldemort's attention.  
  
Harry could feel the immense sadness of the Weasley family, could see it etched in every pale face as they huddled together in the bitter cold. George looked stunned and disbelieving as he stared down into the grave where his twin's coffin had been magically lowered only moments before, and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had given up all attempts to be stoic as they wept openly, supporting one another. Harry hung back a bit, staying with Hermione and Lupin on the other side of the grave. He felt as though he had lost a brother, and the familiar feeling of grief mixed with anger boiled inside of him like a thick and potent potion. He swore, once again, that he would put a stop to Voldemort's reign as soon as he was able.  
  
When the ceremony was over and each person present had tossed a handful of frozen soil into the grave, they trooped silently back to the Burrow, where a meal was waiting, having been prepared by the Hogwarts house-elves to spare Mrs. Weasley the labor.  
  
They ate the delicious meal silently, hardly tasting it. After they had finished, the members of the Order slowly left, each offering a comforting word to the grieving family before disapparating. Soon the only people left were the Weasley family, Harry and Hermione – even Remus Lupin had gone. George retreated to his room, and after a moment, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley followed. Bill and Charlie kept one another company in the tiny lounge where the Christmas tree still stood as a cruel reminder of the joy they had shared only days before. Percy seemed uncertain, sitting alone at the kitchen table, his head bowed in grief. His family had forgiven him and welcomed him back, but he had been gone for so long that some of the closeness he had once shared with them was gone.  
  
Hermione led Ron gently back outside for a walk. She had been at his side almost constantly since the morning after Christmas, responding kindly but firmly in the negative to her parents' insistence that she come back home. She was a great comfort to Ron, and their relationship had grown to new depths as he dealt with the loss of his brother.  
  
Ginny was still being strangely distant to Harry. She did not seem angry, and she had let him hold her, but Harry could easily sense that she felt awkward and ill-at-ease with him. He thought he understood why – she knew he had witnessed her brother's death, and even though she had said she did not blame him for it, she was having trouble dealing with the fact that he had seen the whole thing and had been unable to stop it. Considering that Harry himself was having trouble dealing with this, he could hardly blame Ginny for her reticence. Acting on Hermione's advice, he had tried to give Ginny space when she needed it, but had also continued to try and comfort her in any way that he could.  
  
When Ginny shook her head slightly at him as she got up from the table and followed Hermione and Ron out the back door, Harry headed slowly up the stairs to Ron's attic bedroom, nodding at Percy on his way out of the kitchen. He wanted time to be alone to think about what had happened. There was no way around it – Fred's death had been at least partly his own responsibility.  
  
Harry's mind kept up a cadence of ‘if onlies' as he headed up the many flights of rickety stairs. If only he had been able to wake himself and get help to Diagon Alley in time...if only he had somehow foreseen the danger...if only...if only. Harry knew that Fred's death had not been his fault, but he could not help thinking that he should have been able to stop it.  
  
By the time he reached the top of the stairs, Harry was feeling nearly lifeless in his grief and self-doubt. No sooner had he flopped onto his camp bed, however, than he the familiar warmth of his amulet on his chest, alerting him that Remus Lupin wanted to speak with him. Harry considered pretending not to notice, but after only a moment of hesitation, he clasped his fist around the amulet and used the now-familiar form of telepathy to greet Lupin, who had returned to Grimmauld Place to prepare for the upcoming full moon.  
  


***

  
George closed the door softly behind him before he collapsed onto his bed, lying on his side and facing the simple wooden bed which had so recently been occupied by his twin. Fred and George had not been living away from the Burrow for long, and now, as George lay staring at the empty bed, he wondered if things would have been different if they had stayed. Neither of them had wanted to; yearning for independence and adulthood and totally consumed with their new shop, they had been eager to fly the coop and live on their own. Molly had warned them that safety in numbers was important, but they had brushed her aside. If they had just listened, Fred would be right here, right now...  
  
George's eyes welled with tears and he blinked furiously, swallowing fiercely to quell the lump in his throat. Flashes of the battle at Weasley's Wizard Wheezes and of the green light that had raced towards his twin's unflinching face came unbidden into his mind. Under the full body bind, he had been unable to turn away as Fred was killed, but he knew he would not have been able to even if had been able.  
  
Even today, after Fred's funeral, George could not really believe that he would never see his twin brother again. It just didn't seem real.  
  
"He's not coming back," George whispered in an effort to force himself to believe it. "Fred is not coming back. He's ..."  
  
Even to himself, George could not say the word "dead." It was too final, too irrefutable, to apply to someone who had always been less of a brother than an irreplaceable part of his own soul. As this thought slowly meandered through George's mind, refusing to be banished, he could hold back the tears no longer, and he lost all reserve as he sobbed for his twin.  
  
He did not hear the door creak softly as his mother and father entered the room, nor did he see them approach his bed. At that moment, George was conscious of nothing but his own pain. He did not respond as Molly sat on the bed next to him and placed a comforting hand on his back, not bothering to stifle her own tears, nor as Arthur placed a hand on his shoulder, squeezing him firmly.  
  
"George, darling," Molly crooned softly, bending to press her wet cheek to his as she spoke, moving her hand in small circles on his still-cloaked back. George did not reply to her, but his sobs grew quieter is he shifted his gaze to his mother's tear-stained face.  
  
Arthur moved to the other side of the bed and took a seat opposite his wife, sandwiching George between them as he continued to lay disconsolately on the bed. "George, my son," Arthur began, but before he could continue, Molly uttered a soft cry and pulled George into her arms like she had when he was only a small child. She held him tightly, both of them sobbing as they rocked back and forth. After a moment's hesitation, Arthur gathered his wife and his son into his arms and held them both.  
  
Parents and son stayed in this embrace for some time – whether a moment passed or an hour no one knew or cared, but eventually the sobbing quieted and the three pulled apart, wiping the remains of their tears from their blotchy and swollen eyes.  
  
"Mum...Dad..." George began, his voice cracking. "I'm so sorry...I..."  
  
"Oh, George," Molly said softly, stroking his cheek. "Don't think that. Don't ever think that." Her voice grew stronger as she talked to him. "It's a miracle you survived, and none of this was your fault, none of it."  
  
"You fought bravely and well, son," Arthur continued, and swallowed hard, willing his voice to stay strong. He knew what he needed to say next. "And you have more work to do now, George."  
  
Molly nodded in agreement. After having talked to several of the Healers at St. Mungo's, they knew that in addition to allowing him time to grieve, they also had to help him resume his life. George Weasley had to learn how to live again. The night before, they had agreed on their course of action. Molly squeezed her husband's hand, lending him strength. The truth was, the Weasley parents' hearts were as broken as their son's, and they, too, wanted nothing more than to wallow in their own grief, to not have to face a world without Fred in it. The Healer, however, had cautioned them that they must force themselves to resume living, and quickly, for with every passing day, George would withdraw further into himself.  
  
"Work?" George said weakly, looking at each of his parents in turn. This was not what he had expected. Surely they didn't expect him to return to the shop? He fully intended to close it forever and had no desire to run it without his brother at his side.  
  
"Yes, dear," Molly said gently but firmly. "The shop is being repaired and cleaned thoroughly, and it will be ready for business soon."  
  
"No, Mum," George answered. "Leave it closed. I don't want it."  
  
"I'm afraid that's not possible, George," Arthur said mildly. "Imagine what Fred would say if you closed the shop, not to mention your customers and your investors." Saying Fred's name was hard for Arthur, but he continued doggedly, with the conviction that he was doing what was best for his son. "You've got to be strong, son. You can't sleep away your days. Reopen the shop and keep inventing."  
  
"You've brought laughter to so many," Molly said softly. "I may not have thought opening a joke shop was important when you first began it, but I can see now that laughter is more important than ever. You could not have a more important job if you were the Minister of Magic himself."  
  
"I can't do it," George said, not meeting her eyes. "Not without Fred. We did it together, Mum. I can't do it alone." His voice dropped to a whisper and the tears threatened to spill over once again.  
  
Molly and Arthur exchanged a quick glance, and at an almost imperceptible nod from Molly, Arthur got up from the bed and left the room, quietly closing the door behind him.  
  
"You won't have to do it alone, George," Molly said, still speaking softly and gently. She could see that George was at least engaged in the conversation even if he was not yet agreeing to go back to his shop, and she did not want him to curl back into himself. "You will never be alone."  
  
"It's not the same, Mum," George muttered. "I love all of you, but Fred..."  
  
"I didn't mean that it would be the same, George," Molly corrected him. "But as long as you are a Weasley, you will never in your life be alone, and you have a heavier mantle of responsibility than ever now. You must not only continue your work, but Fred's as well. It's what he would want you to do."  
  
"I know, Mum, but I don't know if I can," George replied, looking away from her. What she had said was true and he knew it, but that didn't change the hollow feeling that threatened to overwhelm him, the huge black hole where Fred had been.  
  
"You can, George," Molly responded, and they both turned as Arthur entered the room once again, followed closely by Percy.  
  


***

  
" _I'm sorry I couldn't stay, Harry_ ," Lupin said regretfully.  
  
" _It's all right, Moony_ ," Harry responded automatically.  
  
" _Is it really all right, Harry_?" Lupin asked. " _Or perhaps I should say, are you really all right_?"  
  
" _Fine_ ," Harry told him dully, knowing full well that this response would not satisfy his guardian.  
  
" _Talk to me, Harry_ ," Lupin said gently, and Harry could picture the concerned look on the older man's face as well as if they were sitting across from one another. Lupin continued, " _Tell me what is going on inside that head of yours_."  
  
Harry didn't answer. How could he possibly explain what he was thinking to Lupin when he wasn't really all that certain of it himself? Besides, he felt that if one more person told him that he bore no responsibility for Fred's death, he would scream.  
  
" _Harry, I am going to tell you one more time, and I want you to listen: no one bears any fault for what happened in Diagon Alley other than Voldemort and his Death Eaters. No one. You mustn't blame yourself, Harry_."  
  
Harry still didn't respond, but Lupin could feel his irritation even through the connection fostered by their amulets. It was the same problem that they had had every time Harry witnessed someone's death, made all the more poignant by the fact that the victim was Fred Weasley. He sighed. He had not wanted to play this particular card, but at the same time, hoped that it would shock some sense into Harry before he continued down the slippery slope of self-doubt. Harry could not afford that now, with the war escalating and Voldemort growing stronger and more menacing each day.  
  
" _Harry, do you blame George for Fred's death_?" Lupin asked, his tone brutally blunt.  
  
Harry sat straight up. " _No_!" he replied angrily. " _How can you even say that_?"  
  
" _It makes more sense to blame George than yourself_ ," Lupin replied, willing himself to keep his emotions quelled so that Harry could not sense how much he hated himself the moment the words had been said. " _George was there. You weren't_."  
  
" _Lupin_ ," Harry said, his voice low and furious, and Lupin winced as he always did when Harry addressed him like that. " _Don't say that. Don't ever say that. It wasn't George's fault – he did everything he could! He did everything right, he –_ "  
  
" _Of course he did, Harry, unless you believe that George could have dueled Bellatrix Lestrange, Lucius Malfoy, Antoin Dolohov, and Voldemort himself and won_."  
  
" _Of course he couldn't have_ ," Harry raged. " _No one could, except maybe Profess –_ " He stopped in the middle of his sentence as the realization of what Lupin was doing hit him. How could he have been so stupid as to think that Lupin actually blamed George for what had happened? His guardian was actually trying to provoke him into staying that no one could have stopped the attack, but in Harry's opinion what Lupin had tried to do was lower than low.  
  
" _That wasn't funny_ ," he said, his voice laced with bitterness.  
  
" _No, it wasn't_ ," Lupin replied. " _But surely you can see that no one could have stopped Voldemort and his followers from doing what they did. There were simply too many of them. It's a miracle that Fred and George lasted as long as they did, and that George survived. And he wouldn't have, Harry, be sure of that, if you hadn't raised the alarm in time_."  
  
"It's not the same!" Harry shouted aloud, forgetting for a moment the telepathic nature of his conversation with Lupin. He glanced towards the door, but at this point he was too furious to really care whether or not he had been overheard.  
  
His fist was clenched so tightly around his amulet that it was surprising that the small bottle did not shatter. He concentrated hard and virtually shot his next statement at Lupin, who staggered visibly in the basement kitchen of Grimmauld Place. " _That was a dirty trick, Lupin_."  
  
" _I'm sorry, Harry_ ," Lupin said, and his voice contained a hint of pleading urgency to it now. " _I truly am. But don't you understand how important it is that you not waste time with self-doubt and blame now? Don't you understand that those are the very signs of weakness that Voldemort preys upon? You've got to stay strong, Harry, and not lose yourself in this. Voldemort is coming out into the open, which means he has grown strong enough that he no longer feels as though he has to hide. He's known the Prophecy for months, but your situation has never been more dangerous_."  
  
" _That doesn't give you the right_ ," Harry began, but he found that he could not really complete the thought. He felt incredibly stupid for falling for Lupin's ploy. How could he have actually considered the possibility that anybody blamed George for Fred's death?  
  
" _Harry_ ," Lupin said, and his voice had lost the pleading tone and had a steely edge to it now. " _It is my job to keep you safe, and frankly I am past caring what you think I do and do not have the right to do. As long as you are blaming yourself for Fred's death instead of placing the blame where it belongs, you are making yourself vulnerable, and that is not something I am prepared to tolerate. If you won't be strong and get past this for yourself, then do it for the rest of us_."  
  
Once again, Harry did not respond. He was rather taken aback by this abrupt change in tone, but somewhere, in the deep recesses of his mind, he knew that Lupin was right. Childishly, though, he was not prepared to admit it, so he remained silent.  
  
Lupin waited for a moment, and when Harry said nothing, he sighed once again. " _Just think about it_ ," he said, his voice becoming weary. " _I have to leave you now and get prepared for the full moon, but I want you to think about it, Harry. I understand how you are feeling. I just want you to fight_." With that, the amulet Harry still clutched tightly in his fist went cold, and he knew that his guardian had broken the connection.  
  
Hundreds of miles away, in the basement kitchen of Grimmauld Place, a weary-looking Lupin sat heavily at the large oak table. He hated any kind of animosity between himself and Harry, but this time, he knew that Harry did not have the luxury of a weeks-long recovery. The war was going in full-force, and he feared more every day that Harry's day of reckoning was not far off the horizon.  
  


***

  
It was with a growing sense of dread that Harry cast the silencing charm on himself that night, after having spent most of the day alone in Ron's bedroom while Ron was out with Hermione. Even Percy seemed to have left the house, and Harry had only caught a glimpse of Mr. and Mrs. Weasley going into their own bedroom after they emerged from talking to George.  
  
He had heard nothing from or about Voldemort or his followers since the attack on Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, and since he knew the halt had not been called out of respect for Fred's memory, Harry expected to see another attack sometime very soon.  
  
Nothing happened that night or the one after that. The New Year had not been celebrated with any of the usual fanfare or even the traditional toast. Most of the inhabitants of the Burrow had simply wished one another good night and gone to bed well before midnight.  
  
The third morning of the year dawned cold and cloudy with a light dusting of snow falling on the already snow-covered grounds of the Burrow. As Harry stretched and quietly cast the counter-charm on himself, he was thankful once again that because there were adult inhabitants at the Burrow, it would be impossible to detect exactly who was performing magic and he did not need to worry about any kind of censure from the Ministry.  
  
Harry was up before Ron that morning. Hermione was not expected at the Burrow until sometime after lunch, having finally given in to her parents and consented to spend some time at home before school resumed at the beginning of the following week, and Ron was taking advantage of her absence and having a lie-in. Harry left the room quietly, Ron's snores echoing down the wooden stairwell before he eased the door closed.  
  
This morning, Harry was planning on finding Ginny and seeing if she would talk to him. Although he was unlikely to admit it to anyone other than himself, Harry missed her more than he ever would have imagined that he would. After a quick shower, he went downstairs into the small kitchen, smelling the familiar smell of bacon frying as he descended. It took him a moment to realize that he had not smelled breakfast cooking since Fred's death, and he sincerely hoped that it meant Mrs. Weasley was feeling a bit better.  
  
Molly had indeed resumed her customary place next to the stove and was presiding over the preparation of breakfast with her usual watchfulness. She greeted Harry with a smile and a brave "good morning, dear," but Harry noticed that her smile still did not reach her eyes.  
  
"Good morning, Mrs. Weasley," Harry said, yawning a bit as he sat down at the table.  
  
"How are you this morning?" Molly asked anxiously, her hands shaking slightly as she transferred bacon from the frying pan onto a plate lined with a clean tea towel.  
  
"I'm fine," Harry answered truthfully. "Has everyone already gone?"  
  
"Charlie's still here," Molly answered. "He's got to go back to Romania later today; his holiday is almost over. Bill and Arthur have gone to work already, George and Percy are at the shop, and Ginny and Ron are still sleeping." The tone of her voice as she told Harry where everyone was evidenced just how closely Mrs. Weasley had been monitoring her family's movements since the attack, and he suspected that she had recited the same list to herself several times already that morning.  
  
"Percy went with George to the shop again today?" Harry asked, somewhat surprised. George had gone back to the shop the afternoon after the funeral, escorted by Percy ‘for safety reasons,' Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had said. They had found much of the necessary work to repair the shop had already been done by the twins' friends. Perhaps it was the sight of the shop that had snapped George back a bit from the precipice on which he had been standing since Fred's death, or perhaps it was the obvious devotion of their friends and family, but he had already started to throw himself back into his work.  
  
Harry could understand George's zeal well enough once George had returned to his shop and continued the work he and Fred had started two years before, but he was confused by Percy's sudden interest. From what Harry could gather, Percy had been going to work with George each morning before going to his own job at the Ministry and stopping back before apparating to the Burrow, where both he and George were staying for the time being under their mother's insistence. Harry made a mental note to ask Ron about it later on, for Mrs. Weasley had busied herself once again at the stove, scrambling several eggs and buttering a stack of toast for Harry, Ron, and Ginny.  
  
Five minutes later, Ginny stumbled sleepily into the kitchen, but before she could take her place at the table, Mrs. Weasley asked her to go wake Ron for breakfast. Ginny turned with just the slightest of smiles to Harry and went back up the stairs, returning momentarily with Ron, still in his pajamas and looking highly grumpy. Harry greeted him, but knew better than to say much until his friend was a little more awake.  
  
The three teenagers ate silently for awhile until Mrs. Weasley broke the silence, saying in a would-be cheerful tone, "What have you three got planned for today?"  
  
"Hermione's coming later today," Ron answered, having been brought back to life by the big breakfast and a large goblet of spiced pumpkin juice. He made a slight face. "She wants to start revising for some of our classes already."  
  
"She's got the right idea, Ronald," Mrs. Weasley said, and Harry was actually pleased to note that some of the customary sternness had returned to her tone as she addressed her youngest son. "Have you started revision for your O.W.L.s yet, Ginevra?" she asked next, turning to her daughter.  
  
"No, Mum," Ginny replied quietly. "I was planning to start after the holiday."  
  
"All right, dear," Molly relented a bit. "Just make sure you do – remember, your O.W.L.s will determine what classes you can take for your sixth and seventh years, and what career you can pursue. It's important, Ginny."  
  
"I know," Ginny replied. "May I be excused?"  
  
Molly nodded, but Harry noticed that Ginny had eaten very little, and she didn't say anything as she left the table and headed back up the stairs to get dressed. Harry and Ron finished eating and put their plates in the sink. Just as they were about to leave the kitchen, Harry saw Ginny come back down the stairs, take her cloak from the hook by the door, and head into the back garden. After a moment's hesitation and a gentle nod from Mrs. Weasley, Harry took his cloak and followed her.  
  
Ginny had already disappeared into the woods by the time Harry closed the back door behind him, but from the direction of her footprints in the snow, he guessed where she had gone.  
  
He was right. Five minutes later, his cheeks rosy from cold and his bare hands freezing, Harry reached the small tree house that Ginny had taken him to only days before and called to her. She didn't reply, but Harry heard small noises from above that sounded like sobs. After another moment's hesitation, he proceeded up the wooden ladder and through the hole in the floor. He saw Ginny huddled in the corner, her arms wrapped around her knees and her cloak wrapped tightly around her, tears running down her face. Harry suspected that she had been coming here often, and mentally rebuked himself for not having followed her before.  
  
"Ginny?" he asked tentatively as he climbed into the small room. "Are you okay?"  
  
"Leave me alone, Harry," Ginny replied, her voice trembling and laced with tears.  
  
"No, Ginny," Harry said gently, remembering well how Lupin had responded to him when he had been grieving over Sirius's death. He approached her cautiously and sat down next to her, wondering what he should do next and wishing he had asked Hermione for advice before he had followed Ginny out here. "Erm..." he started awkwardly, "do you want to talk about it?"  
  
Ginny remained silent but for the small catches in her breathing that told Harry she had been crying pretty hard.  
  
"Ginny," Harry said, desperately trying to find a way to make her feel better. It made his heart ache to see the pain in her eyes, for he had grown to love her above all others.  
  
"I just..." Ginny began.  
  
"What is it, Ginny?" Harry prompted.  
  
"I never thought...Fred..." Ginny replied softly, and her eyes welled up again. "I know this is war, Harry. I know that. The things you've seen...all those people. But still, I never thought..." Her voice trailed off.  
  
"You never thought it could happen to your family?" Harry finished for her.  
  
"No, I never did," Ginny whispered. "I've been so worried about you, Harry. I knew he was coming for you...and you've had to see all these terrible things he's done...but then, it wasn't a stranger...it was Fred...and you saw..." She screwed up her face in an effort to maintain her somewhat shaky control over her emotions.  
  
"I did see, Ginny," Harry said, willing his voice not to shake. He had been right. Even Ginny blamed him for Fred's death. "Please believe me...if there had been anything I could do..."  
  
"Oh, Harry!" Ginny exclaimed, suddenly throwing her arms around him and burying her face in his chest, sobbing unrestrainedly for a few minutes before she choked back her tears and continued, "You couldn't have done anything. You couldn't have...I just wish...I wish..." She began sobbing again, holding onto him as if he were the only anchor to safety she had left.  
  
Harry was glad she was opening up to him, but he wasn't quite sure how to deal with her outpouring of feeling. He held her tightly and patted her on the back, kissing the top of her head. He still wasn't sure exactly why he had been being so distant with him, but as he continued to hold her until her sobbing once again began to fade, he decided he didn't care.  
  
Harry and Ginny spent the rest of that morning in the tree house talking, their arms wrapped around one another as they remembered Fred in their own way. Ginny told Harry some of their family stories from her childhood.  
  
"I remember the first time they pranked me," Ginny said, smiling at the memory. "I was only about three, and they were five, and it was really hot outside...unusually so. We were in the back garden while Mum did housework, and she had asked Bill to look after me.  
  
"Bill, of course, went off to do something else as soon as she wasn't looking, and left me, Ron, and the twins alone in the garden. We weren't allowed to leave the area just beyond the house, but I was happy enough picking flowers for my hair and chasing the garden gnomes."  
  
Harry smiled at the picture of a very young Ginny chasing the funny little gnomes through the garden, and he impulsively kissed her forehead.  
  
"Anyway, Ron was playing on a toy broomstick, and Fred and George told me that if I took one of the garden gnomes a necklace made out of flowers, it would grant me three wishes. Of course, I believed them and set to work making the most beautiful flower necklace I could make." Ginny smiled again. "I didn't know yet what the smell of flowers does to a garden gnome in close proximity, or that it is the reason why they like to set up housekeeping in Wizarding gardens."  
  
"What does the smell of the flowers do?" Harry asked with interest. He didn't know much about garden gnomes except that they were a nuisance and that Mrs. Weasley would often required her children to rid the garden of them as punishment for misbehavior.  
  
"Shh...you'll find out." Ginny giggled a little then, but immediately stopped, as if she had suddenly remembered that she was not supposed to be happy. Her expression sobered but at a slight squeeze on the shoulder from Harry, she continued, "Anyway, after I finished the necklace, I went off in search of a garden gnome, heading towards one of their little holes under Mum's plants. As soon as I got close, not one, but three gnomes came running out of the hole, and I held the necklace out to them." She stopped, and it seemed as though she was trying hard not to burst out laughing at the memory.  
  
"What happened then?" Harry prompted when she hadn't spoken for a moment.  
  
"The first gnome grabbed at the necklace and it broke, leaving him with several flowers and me with the remains of it in my hands. I didn't know what to do at first, and I started to cry. Then, I felt something grab the bottom of my robes, and before I knew it I had about ten garden gnomes climbing up my robes trying to get at the rest of the flowers!" Ginny laughed then, a real laugh, and Harry smiled broadly. Her laugh was like music to him, and he had missed it.  
  
"You see," she said, still laughing, "flowers are like liquor to garden gnomes, but they often have trouble getting them because they are too short to reach them and the stems of the flowers aren't stout enough to climb. When Mum came out of the house a few moments later to check on us, I had gnomes climbing all over me, grabbing at the flowers I'd put in my hair earlier and the ones I had in my hands, and I was just standing there, giggling fit to burst. Fred and George, of course, were nowhere to be seen. Oh, when Mum found out what they had done..."  
  
Even Harry had to laugh at the thought of the expression on Molly Weasley's face when she saw her small daughter covered in garden gnomes. He stopped, however, when he noticed that Ginny was no longer laughing and her face had gone pale.  
  
"Ginny?" Harry asked in concern. "What's the matter?"  
  
"It just doesn't feel right," she said softly.  
  
"What doesn't?" Harry asked, slightly confused.  
  
"Laughing. How can we laugh when Fred..." Her voice trailed off.  
  
"You don't think Fred would want us to laugh?" Harry asked. This was one of the many things that Lupin had told him time and again after Sirius's death...that Sirius would not want to be remembered with sadness. "Ginny, Fred spent his whole life making everyone laugh. Why would he want us to stop now?"  
  
Ginny nodded and smiled tremulously at Harry, and by the time they left the tree house to head back to the Burrow for lunch, their hands were clasped tightly together. Although you could still see the grief written plainly on both of their faces, each was much happier than they had been just a few hours before.  
  


***

  
The rest of the week at the Burrow passed rather more somberly than usual. Mrs. Weasley was back to her cooking and housework and Mr. Weasley was back at work, but both of them looked older and paler than they ever had before and it was easy to see how hard they were trying to help their children cope with Fred's death. Mr. Weasley's smiles seemed forced, and he often lost focus when he was playing chess with Ron and would sit staring into the fire until Ron reminded him that it was his move. Mrs. Weasley would disappear at times, and all of them suspected that she spent a good deal of time in her room, thinking about Fred.  
  
Hermione, although she was still staying with her parents, came to the Burrow daily, and at her insistence Ron, Ginny, and Harry had all started revising for their spring classes. It was a way to pass the time, to be sure, and Harry suspected that was part of the reason why she was nagging so much about it.  
  
Ginny and Harry spent nearly every waking moment together. Their activities varied, but more often than not they could be found in the tree house, talking and holding one another. They had not gone any further than that...Ginny was not in the mood, and Harry remembered with a pang how Fred and George had caught them there and had warned him against hurting her. Following Hermione's advice, he was careful to move at her pace, and not ask anything of her that she was not willing to give.  
  
Unbelievably, the person who was attracting the most interest in the Weasley household was none other than Percy. According to George, the usually serious businesswizard had been spending more and more time at Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, going over their books and even making suggestions for new products. Although George had returned to work and was running things as well as possible without his brother, he was prone to periods of crippling depression, and he confided to Harry and Ron one night after Ginny had gone to bed that it was Percy who usually brought him out of it.  
  
"Seriously, mates, I don't know what to make of him," George told them seriously. "It's so hard to do this without Fred, but whenever I get to thinking about closing the shop, it seems like Percy always shows up with something to talk about that gets me on the right track again."  
  
"Percy does that?" Ron asked incredulously. For his part, even though he treated his brother with civility bordering on friendliness, he had not accepted Percy back into the fold yet. He was still too angry at the grief the ambitious young man had caused his family and friends over the past year and a half.  
  
"Yeah," George replied. "It's not the same, you know, without Fred..." George's voice broke, and he took a moment to compose himself before he continued, "But you wouldn't believe some of the stuff Percy's come up with, and he's made some changes in the way the money is handled that have already made a difference."  
  
"Is Percy going to quit his job at the Ministry and come to work with you?" Harry asked, noticing that to even suggest that Percy might be thinking of leaving the Ministry was something he would never have even considered before.  
  
"No way!" Ron commented.  
  
"I don't know," George said ponderingly, "but I have to say that I wouldn't really mind much if he did. He's not a barrel of laughs, Percy, but he's still got a lot of good ideas. Besides, I get the impression that things are not going well for Minister Fudge. I don't know how long Percy would have his job anyway."  
  
"What do you mean?" Harry asked. He knew that Cornelius Fudge had lost a lot of popularity over the fact that he had spent a year pretending that Voldemort had not returned, but he had not gotten the impression that his job was in jeopardy. Who would be the new Minister if not Fudge?  
  
"I don't really know," George replied. "Percy hasn't said much, but I get the impression that the Minister's office has been getting so many Howlers that they had to hire someone just to receive all of them."  
  
"I think it would be a good thing if Fudge got the sack," Ron said fiercely. "He's a git, that one."  
  
"Yeah," Harry agreed. If nothing else, "git" seemed to be an appropriate word for the current Minister of Magic, and it probably would not be a bad thing to have a new one.  
  
George yawned. "Listen guys, I've got to get to the shop early tomorrow. Percy wants to do a complete inventory before we open. I think I'll turn in."  
  
Harry and Ron wished George a good night, and then headed up the stairs to bed themselves. They were returning to Hogwarts the next morning, and they, too would have to be up early to make it to the Hogwarts Express by eleven. After Ron was safely snoring, Harry cast the silencing charm on his throat once again, this time almost hoping that he would find something out, see something. Though he was relieved that Voldemort and his Death Eaters had seemingly decided to lay low for the time being, Harry found their continued silence disconcerting in the extreme.  
  


***

  
The somber mood in the Weasley household continued as they got everyone off to the train with a minimum of confusion. Harry noticed that Mrs. Weasley held all of them a little tighter and a little longer than she had before, and she implored them all to be safe. He could see the tears in her eyes as they all boarded the train with their trunks.  
  
The news of Fred's death had been reported in the Daily Prophet, of course, so everyone on the train knew about it. Ron, Hermione, and Ginny came back from the Prefect's compartment unusually quickly, saying that the Head Boy and Girl had excused the three of them from patrolling the corridors during the train ride. They passed the long journey quietly, Ron and Hermione sitting close together on one of the bench seats, Harry and Ginny on the other.  
  
It did not take long for people to start coming by the compartment. The first was Neville, who knocked tentatively on the sliding door before coming in. "I'm...really sorry about Fred," he said, looking down at his shoes.  
  
"Thanks, Neville," Hermione said when no one else answered. Neville left quickly, clearly feeling awkward and not knowing what to say, but all day, a constant stream of students stopped by to offer their condolences.  
  
"I wish they'd stop," Ginny whispered after Ernie Macmillan and Hannah Abbot had gone.  
  
"They don't know what else to do," Hermione said softly. "They care about you two, and they all knew Fred. They feel like they've got to say something."  
  
"There's nothing they can say," Ron said rather more fiercely than he had intended. "What do they think they can say that will make things better?"  
  
"They know they can't make it better, Ron," Hermione said, her tone gentle rather than scolding. "They just want you to know they care, that's all."  
  
"I wish they wouldn't," Ron muttered, and Harry couldn't help but agree. No one wanted this kind of attention, but the stream of students didn't stop coming until the train had stopped in Hogsmeade and the four of them found a carriage to themselves back to the castle. Once again, they passed the ride in silence, mostly just wanting to return to the Gryffindor common room and to their dormitories.  
  
This was not to be, however, for as soon as they had made it up the long walk and into the Entrance Hall, Professor McGonagall met them, her expression grim.  
  
"Mr. Potter," she said without preamble. "Professor Dumbledore wishes to speak to you immediately."


	31. Draco's Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco Malfoy is looking forward to a holiday with a little less responsibility on his young shoulders; he should have realized that his master would have other plans.

Draco Malfoy did not go up to the Entrance Hall to see his fellow Slytherins off for the holidays. He pointedly ignored Pansy Parkinson as she attempted to wave him over before she left the Slytherin Common Room, and he did not speak to Crabbe and Goyle as they lugged their trunks out of the dormitory.

Draco had been ready to leave. His trunk had been packed with the robes and the schoolbooks he would need over the holidays, and the gifts he had ordered via Owl Post for his mother and his father were wrapped neatly and stowed safely at the bottom where they would not be broken or seen. He had been looking forward to leaving the castle. Proud as he was of the black mark on his left forearm, the clandestine meetings in the dark dungeon chamber, the communications with the stupid giant in the Forbidden Forest and the constant feeling that he was being watched were growing more than a bit wearing. Draco felt that he deserved a break from all of it, and when his family owl had arrived only minutes before he was supposed to depart for the Hogwarts Express, he had been most displeased.

>  _Draco,_
> 
>  _I wish you to remain at school over the Christmas holidays. Your gifts will be sent along, and you will receive them on Christmas Day. Do let me know if there is anything else you require for your stay._
> 
>  _Mother  
> _

  
The short note lacked any warmth and had not been accompanied by the parcel of sweets that Draco had become accustomed to over his nearly six years at school. Because of this, he correctly surmised that his mother had written the note at his father's instruction and was none too happy that she would not see her son over the holidays.

Knowing also that his father had most likely demanded that he remain at Hogwarts because Lord Voldemort had directed him to do so, Draco had wisely decided not to argue the point. Instead, he had closed his trunk and gone down to the Slytherin Common Room, where he sat pretending to read his Potions text as though this had been planned all along.

The only other Slytherin remaining at the school over the holidays, a small, dark-haired first-year whose name Draco could not remember, took just one glance at the intimidating sixth-year sitting in the leather armchair and scurried off to his own dormitory, not daring to speak.

After the younger student had gone, Draco looked around, wondering what to do with himself. He had received no instructions regarding how he was to spend his time on his own at the school, and he was not ready to begin his holiday revision. He returned to his dormitory and flopped onto his bed, any attempts at dignity abandoned since there was no one there to see him.

Draco had not imagined how lonely his life would be as the only student who was a Death Eater at Hogwarts. He could not tell his fellow Slytherins of his status even though most of them would have turned green with envy if they knew, and he could not talk openly with Professor Snape because the Order of the Phoenix still believed him to be loyal to their side. All in all, Draco's existence had become so solitary that the absence of the other students affected him very little…at least, this was what he told himself as he stared at the cold stone ceiling of his dungeon room.

After a few moments of reflection, he decided that the holidays would not be so bad. After all, how could he be expected to spy on Harry Potter when Potter had decided to spend the holidays away from school? If the only thing he was required to do was to take an occasional gift to the giant in the forest, Draco supposed the holidays might not be so bad after all. He could lie-in every morning if he wished, and that was rarely allowed at Malfoy Manor and never when his father was at home. He would have fewer reports to give in the cold dungeon chamber, and he would not have the constant worry that someone was looking over his shoulder and reporting his every move to Lord Voldemort.

Just as Draco had come to the conclusion that he would actually enjoy spending the holiday at school, an unfamiliar black owl arrived through the small air shaft that led into the dormitory. Draco groaned, sure that this owl could not be carrying good news. His suspicions grew as he realized that this message had been written to only be visible to someone with the Dark Lord’s mark; the way the ink faded when he transferred the letter to his right hand confirmed this.

>  _Draco,_
> 
>  _By now you have no doubt received my notice that you are to remain at Hogwarts over the holiday break. I did not wish the other students to see your instructions so I sent this letter separately._
> 
>  _I have been informed that you have been instructed on the entrance into a secure location in Hogsmeade. You are to obtain permission from the Headmaster to be in Hogsmeade at that location on the 23rd of December at 2:00. I wish to see you then, and it is at this time that you will receive your Christmas presents and celebrate the holiday with the family._
> 
>  _Until then, carry on with your current assignment and revise for your classes._
> 
>  _Mother  
> _

  
Draco balled the parchment in his fist. He was not fooled by the letter, which had obviously been written in a manner that would not seem suspicious if it fell into the wrong hands. Even with the added security of charmed ink, everyone was being extra careful about all communications these days.

He uncrumpled the parchment and read it over again to make sure he had gleaned all the necessary information from it. If this communication was, as he suspected, truly from his father and Lord Voldemort, he could not afford to miss even one part of it.

It was clear enough that he was to be in Hogsmeade on December twenty-third at two o’clock and that he was to secure permission to be there rather than attempting to sneak off. The only thing he was not as clear about was the location at which he was supposed to meet his father. Draco read that line of the letter several times. What secure location had he been instructed on entering? He had only been to Hogsmeade once this school year, and he had received no special instructions on that day.

Draco thought for a moment about what he had done that day. He remembered clearly that he had been angry because he had been told that he must spend the day under his invisibility cloak tracking Potter rather than enjoying himself. He had followed Potter and his pathetic little girlfriend around town all morning, and then to the Three Broomsticks for lunch, and then…

He felt the rage begin to rise within his chest as he realized what ‘secure location' his mother had been referring to. She was referring to the house in which Potter had told his pitiful friends about the so-called prophecy. Draco's rage, for once, had nothing to do with Potter, but with the fact that his mother somehow knew about the Shrieking Shack.

He had told no one what he had found out about the Shrieking Shack, or even that he had been there. After he had figured out that Lord Voldemort already knew about the prophecy, he was not about to spread Potter's fame by telling anyone else of it. No one had seen him; he had remained under his cloak the entire day. The only thing that made sense was that he had been followed by someone who had the means to track his movements even while he was under the cloak.

The only question was who had done it. Draco's head swam with possibilities, and he was certain that if he could find the identity of the person who had followed him that day at Hogsmeade, he would know the identity of the person who had been telling his father and Lord Voldemort of all his movements since the start of school.

***

  
It was absurdly simple for Draco to secure permission from Headmaster Dumbledore to spend the day of the twenty-third in Hogsmeade. The Headmaster had not only agreed, but had decided to allow the dozen or so other students to spend the day in the Wizarding village as well, the only condition being that they would be accompanied by Professors Snape and McGonagall and the Headmaster himself.

Draco was not surprised or alarmed by this information. He had never supposed that he would be allowed to go to Hogsmeade completely unaccompanied, and with the rest of the students going it would be easy enough for him to disappear under his invisibility cloak once the students had been given leave to explore the village.

Draco had several hours to wander the village innocently, buying himself an early Christmas present of candy from Honeyduke's. As he walked briskly down the main road, turning his nose up at Zonko's joke shop where rest of the students staying at Hogwarts were happily plotting their next pranks, he thought about what his father would want to speak to him about that was so important that they had to set up this clandestine meeting. Draco rather hoped he would learn the reason behind his father's insistence that he stay at school over the holidays because so far, besides one gift-bearing visit to the giant, he had been asked to do nothing that justified it.

Draco went for lunch in the Three Broomsticks around noon. The small pub was packed with witches and wizards all up to the village for last-minute holiday shopping, and the Hogwarts professors and students were there as well. Draco sat a small table by himself, ordered a Butterbeer and a plate of roast chicken for his lunch, and pretended to occupy himself with his purchases. After he had eaten, he left the shop quickly and proceeded back up the main road and around a corner to the Hog's Head. He went inside, ordered a Butterbeer from the surly bartender so as not to appear suspicious, and after drinking it went back to the dirty bathrooms at the back of the pub and threw his invisibility cloak over himself.

He had originally intended to do this at the Three Broomsticks, but he hadn't because he had been certain that one of the professors or Madam Rosemerta, who seemed to know everything about everyone, would notice. Here at the Hog's Head, he reasoned that no one would notice that he had gone, or if they had, they wouldn't have anyone of interest to tell. He didn't even bother to wait until someone opened the door, but in his haste, proceeded through it, safely under his invisibility cloak, confident that even if someone wondered why the door had opened of its own accord, they would assume that it was the wind. The only people at the Hog's Head are the scum of the Wizarding world, Draco thought contemptuously as he headed past the stile at the end of the road and towards the Shrieking Shack, now being careful to erase his own footprints from the snow as he moved. Werewolves and Mudbloods and other ne'er-do-wells who haven't the slightest idea how things in the world are going.

Draco reached the back entrance to the shack at five minutes before two o'clock and quickly said the password to unlock the house. Once he was inside, he removed his invisibility cloak, hung it sloppily over a dusty kitchen chair, and went in search of his father. He heard voices coming from the front end of the house, and he cautiously moved forward. He had been expecting no one but his father and possibly his mother, but he heard at least two male voices coming from what seemed to be an old drawing room. His blood ran cold as he heard the voice he had learned to fear.

"Young Mr. Malfoy," sneered Lord Voldemort as Draco entered the drawing room, his head respectfully down, meeting neither the eyes of the evil wizard nor the eyes of his father, who was standing as always on Voldemort's right.

"My Lord," Draco answered, trying hard to keep the nervousness from his voice. "Is it safe for you to be here, so close to Hogwarts?" he asked boldly, hoping that the evil wizard would find it favorable that he was worried about his well-being.

"How good of you to inquire, young Malfoy," Voldemort replied in his horrible, high-pitched voice. "I assure you, we are quite well-protected…or, I should say, _I_ am quite well-protected." His voice became, if it were possible, even colder. " _You_ , on the other hand, have much to answer for. Tell me, Malfoy, what has your assignment been since you have joined my ranks?"

"To report on Harry Potter, My Lord," Draco said, no longer able to hide the fear in his voice.

"Correct," Voldemort said smoothly. "And since you have begun your assignment, have you brought me any news of import?"

"I –” Draco began.

"Choose your words carefully, Draco," Lucius said coldly, "and remember that Lord Voldemort knows all."

"Yes, young Malfoy, Lord Voldemort knows," said the tall, sneering man, rising from his seat to tower over the blonde boy.

"I've done what you asked, My Lord!" Draco said quickly, panic laced heavily in each of his words.

"Have you?" Voldemort asked quietly. "Have you told me everything you know?"

"Yes, my Lord! I am unable to follow Potter into Dumbledore's office; I don't know what they do in there!" Draco was growing desperate. He could hear the malice in the dark wizard's voice, and he could think of nothing but that he was supposed to have reported on exactly what Potter did while under the Headmaster's tutelage.

"Of course not," Voldemort almost purred. "The headmaster’s office is too well-protected, and I did demand that you remain undetected."

"Yes," Draco answered feebly.

"However," Voldemort continued, "it was brought to my attention some time ago that you had managed to follow Potter to this very location, and that you had become aware of some information which you had not before possessed."

"M- My Lord," Draco stammered, all pretense of courage gone, "I th-thought you already knew…"

"You _thought_?" Voldemort asked, his voice laced with malevolence. "You did not know because no one told you. You took it upon yourself to keep vital information from me simply because you thought I might already know…you _thought_."

He advanced on the cowering teen, his face set and hard with cruelty and vicious intent. "It is time you learned, young Death Eater, what happens to those who displease me." He raised his wand. " _Crucio_!"

This time was not like the time Voldemort had initiated Draco into his ranks. This time, he did not release the young man from the curse. He watched, his face impassive, as Draco fell onto the dusty carpet of the Shrieking Shack, writhing and screaming in pain.

When the curse was finally lifted, Draco lay on the floor, breathing heavily, tears streaming down his flushed face.

"Get up, Draco," his father ordered. "Face your lord and master with the strength of a man."

With great difficulty, Draco rose from the floor and stood in front of Voldemort, his legs shaking with the effort and his breathing still labored.

"Now, young Malfoy, do you understand the amount of emphasis I wish you to place on your assignment?" Voldemort asked menacingly.

"Yes, my Lord," Draco answered with as much strength as he could muster as he looked into the evil, red eyes of the one who he had pledged to serve.

"You will follow Potter. You will observe him. You will listen to his conversations with his friends, and you will report back to me _everything_ you learn, without exception. I will tolerate no more mistakes, young Malfoy."

"Yes, my Lord," Draco repeated, his voice growing stronger as the effects of the curse wore off.

"As for your other assignment," Lucius said in the same cold, formal voice he had been using the entire afternoon. "We expect to be moving forward soon, is that correct, my Lord?"

"Indeed, it seems as though our youngest member's duties grow more vital by the day," Voldemort said, eying Draco appraisingly.

"You must redouble your efforts with the giant," Lucius ordered. "Behind you, you will find a box containing five gifts, which will be given to the giant over the remainder of the holiday when you are less likely to be detected, and you will continue doing so until all has been prepared to our Lord's satisfaction."

"Yes, Father," Draco answered, some of the Malfoy pride slipping back into his voice as he thought of the weight of the responsibility he had been given. After bowing to Voldemort, he turned toward the door.

"Wait," Voldemort ordered.

Draco turned back towards his father and his master, his pointed face set in a look of puzzlement.

"I believe one more reminder of my expectations is in order," the Dark Lord sneered as he raised his wand. Before Draco even had time to process what was about to happen, Voldemort raised his wand and cried, " _Crucio_!"

Draco screamed.

***

  
Just outside the Shack, Albus Dumbledore bowed his head in sadness as he listened to the shrieks of pain coming from the bright student he had watched so carefully since Voldemort's return. There was no questioning the situation any further. Draco Malfoy was a Death Eater.


	32. A Shift in Paradigm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Harry and the others return from the saddest Christmas holidays of their lives, Harry makes a decision that will change his entire life as well as his role in the war. Meanwhile, Draco Malfoy's efforts finally come to fruition.

Hermione, Ron, and Ginny looked very worried as they left Harry with Professor McGonagall and followed the rest of the students into the Great Hall. They had all seemed as though they wanted to come along, but when McGonagall had given them a stern look and nodded towards the rest of the student body, they had no choice but to go.  
  
"Come with me, Potter," McGonagall said curtly, and set off at a quick walk up the marble staircase and towards the Headmaster's office, her shoes clicking briskly under her long, emerald-green robes.  
  
"Professor," Harry began, feeling very anxious indeed. If Professor Dumbledore was insistent on seeing him at that very moment, it meant that he was not in the Great Hall with the rest of the staff and students, and that in and of itself was highly unusual. "What -"  
  
"Professor Dumbledore wishes to speak to you," McGonagall repeated, and Harry could tell from her tone that any further questions would not be welcomed. When they reached the stone gargoyle that guarded the Headmaster's office, they stopped and Professor McGonagall put a hand on his arm. "I trust you know the password, Potter?" she asked, and there was a look in her eye that belied her curt tone of voice. Harry could tell that whatever the Headmaster wished to speak to him about had caused Professor McGonagall considerable concern.  
  
Harry nodded.  
  
"Then I must return to the Great Hall for the feast," McGonagall told him, and when Harry didn't turn back to the gargoyle, she said sternly, "The Headmaster is waiting."  
  
Harry nodded, and turned to say the password. He heard the click of the professor's shoes growing faint as she hurried down the corridor, and with a sigh he climbed the ascending spiral staircase and prepared once more to meet with Albus Dumbledore.  
  
As he reached the top of the staircase, he was startled as the door to Dumbledore's inner office opened magically for him. Usually, he knocked and waited for permission to come in and then opened the door himself.  
  
"Hello, Harry," Dumbledore greeted him pleasantly, but Harry did not miss the somber look in his eyes. "Do have a seat. I apologize for causing you to miss the feast, but there are matters which must be attended to immediately, and I must discuss some of them with you prior to moving forward."  
  
Harry nodded and took his usual seat in front of the Headmaster's desk, looking at the old man expectantly. He understood that the situation was likely very serious, but he still hoped that it could be dealt with quickly so he could return to the Great Hall and eat with the other students. Due to the stream of visitors to their carriage, Harry and the others had quite lost their appetites and had not bought much from the lunch trolley witch that day, and Harry was growing quite hungry.  
  
Dumbledore, seeming as though he had understood Harry's thoughts at that very moment, murmured, "Of course, how thoughtless of me," and waved his wand, causing a small table laden with food which had obviously come from the feast downstairs to appear to the left of Harry's seat. "Please help yourself, Harry. I know you must be hungry."  
  
Although Harry was still hoping to attend at least part of the feast, he did not want to appear rude, so he took a moment to fill a plate with roasted chicken and vegetables and a goblet with icy pumpkin juice. He was rather surprised when Dumbledore came around his desk to do the same, and he resigned himself to a long meeting as the Headmaster conjured a chair on the other side of the table and began to eat.  
  
Harry swallowed a large bite of chicken and decided to try to get to the bottom of things as quickly as possible. "So, Headmaster, you wanted to see me?"  
  
The words sounded stupid as soon as they left his mouth. Of course the Headmaster wanted to see him - why else would he have summoned him the very moment the students had arrived from the carriages?  
  
"Yes, Harry," Dumbledore answered, wiping his mouth with a small silver handkerchief. "We have several matters to discuss, some of great import, but do let us finish our meal first."  
  
Harry was startled, and it felt very strange indeed to be sharing a meal alone with the Headmaster, regardless of all the time they had spent in lessons over the previous term. Harry ate as quickly as he could, growing more suspicious each minute that whatever Dumbledore wanted to discuss was going to have a profound effect on his own life over the next term.  
  
It seemed to be a very long time before the meal was finished and Dumbledore waved his wand once again, Vanishing everything from the small table besides the pitcher of juice and their goblets. "I do believe I will stay here as we talk. Rather more personal than speaking across my desk, don't you think, Harry?"  
  
Harry nodded in bewilderment. He wondered briefly why he had been asked to miss the feast when Dumbledore didn't even speak to him while they ate together, but then he reflected that this meeting had already been so strange that it might be best not to question the details.  
  
"I've always thought my desk was far too large," Dumbledore said with regret. "Alas, it seems as though there is more parchment work to fill it every day."  
  
Harry nodded again, not sure how to respond to this new and unexpected attitude.  
  
Dumbledore sighed. He hated what he was about to tell Harry; what was more, he hated what he was going to have to ask the boy to do.  
  
"Harry," he said seriously, leaning forward slightly to stare straight into the young man's emerald-green eyes. "As you are undoubtedly aware, since the attack on Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, Voldemort and his Death Eaters have been disconcertingly hidden and silent. What knowledge we have leads us to believe that plans are being made for a larger attack."  
  
"Yes, sir," Harry responded. He had thought the same thing when several days had gone by without any kind of attacks on either wizards or Muggles.  
  
"Our source," Dumbledore continued.  
  
"Snape," Harry interrupted without thinking.  
  
"Professor Snape, Harry," Dumbledore corrected automatically, "and yes, I am speaking of him."  
  
"Sorry," Harry said without really meaning it. He knew that he and Dumbledore would never agree on Snape's loyalties until something was proven one way or another.  
  
"Professor Snape," Dumbledore said as though Harry had never interrupted, "has found himself in an increasingly compromised position, and in order to maintain his own position as well as his safety, he has been unable to reveal much more than we already knew. Also, of course, he has been unable to tell us the whereabouts of Voldemort's stronghold, as Voldemort himself is the Secret-Keeper of that information."  
  
Harry nodded. He already knew all this, but he had grown accustomed to the Headmaster's habit of starting serious conversations with a rehashing of known fact. He knew that he would simply have to wait until Dumbledore reached his point, but he was starting to feel rather impatient. Although he was no longer hungry, Harry wanted nothing more than to return to the Great Hall and be with his friends.  
  
"We do, however, have another possible point of access to the information we need," Dumbledore said, and by his change of tone, Harry was almost certain that he was not going to like whatever the Headmaster said next.  
  
"We do, sir?" Harry inquired politely, wondering if they had persuaded another Death Eater to spy for their side. That seemed the most likely possibility…the only question was who.  
  
"Yes," Dumbledore responded heavily, and he suddenly fixed Harry with a stare so piercing that Harry felt the same way he did when Dumbledore attempted to break through his Occlumency shield.  
  
Wondering if this was perhaps another one of Dumbledore's unexpected attempts to disarm his defenses, Harry automatically strengthened his shields but was surprised when he detected no attempt on his mentor's part to perform Legilimency on him.  
  
After a few moments had passed in silence, Harry asked, "Who is it, sir?"  
  
"Yes, Harry," Dumbledore answered. "That it the burning question, is it not? For of course, our new source of information would not be a 'what,' but a 'who.'"  
  
For one wild moment, Harry, remembering his suspicion from the beginning of the fall term, wondered if Draco Malfoy was to serve as the Order's new informant. He could think of no one else in Professor Dumbledore's immediate influence who could possibly be a Death Eater, but neither could he imagine Malfoy ever switching sides.  
  
"Will you tell me?" Harry asked, feeling the beginnings of a boiling frustration with the Headmaster. Their relationship become such that Harry had grown accustomed to having most of his questions answered directly, and he did not at all like the way Dumbledore seemed to be circling the issue - it reminded him forcibly of their meeting at the end of fifth year in which Dumbledore had told him about the Prophecy.  
  
Dumbledore gave no immediate answer, causing Harry's frustration to increase, but continued to stare at Harry unwaveringly, as though willing his student to come to the correct conclusion himself.  
  
"Professor," Harry said firmly after another extended period of silence, and Dumbledore broke his gaze away from Harry's eyes and settled back into his chair, steepling his fingers under his chin in the way that had become so familiar to Harry over the past few months.  
  
"There is, indeed, one other person who could help us," Dumbledore said, his tone growing almost sad. "This person could have almost unrestricted access to all the workings of Voldemort and his followers, including the location of their stronghold, but he will only be able to obtain that information at great personal risk."  
  
Harry was almost certain that the person who was to be the Order's new informant was to be none other than Draco Malfoy. He tried hard to keep the disgust from his face, and he hoped fervently that he was not about to be asked to befriend the repulsive Slytherin.  
  
"Do you not understand, Harry?" Dumbledore asked almost desperately, and Harry realized with a start that the professor did not want to say whatever was on his mind. He had never known Dumbledore to behave this way, and it made him very nervous.  
  
"Draco Malfoy is the new informant," Harry said, trying to keep his voice neutral but succeeding only in making it sound flat.  
  
Dumbledore looked surprised. "Alas, Harry, Mr. Malfoy is not our new informant. He does not have the level of access we require."  
  
"So Malfoy is a Death Eater?" Harry asked quickly, wondering whether or not what he had been suspecting all along was, in fact, correct.  
  
"Mr. Malfoy is not the subject of this conversation, Harry," Dumbledore responded, regaining his poise quickly. For his own reasons, he did not want news of Malfoy's status spread over the school.  
  
Harry looked confused. If not Malfoy or Snape, then who?  
  
"Can you think of no one, Harry? Can you think of not one person who has the single greatest ability in the Wizarding world to gain information from Voldemort, greater even then Professor Snape, or Lucius Malfoy?"  
  
"Sir?" Harry was growing more confused by the moment. Indeed, he could think of no one who had greater access to Voldemort than Lucius Malfoy unless it was Bellatrix Lestrange, but the idea of her coming over to the Order's side was laughable.  
  
Dumbledore sighed heavily. He could understand quite well why Harry could not understand what he was implying. After all, the entire Order had been fighting against the very event which the Headmaster was about to suggest. It was quite reasonable that the idea had not yet occurred to Harry, and at that moment, the wizened old wizard detested himself for what he was about to ask of the young man who had already been through so much. However, he knew the time had come for this action, and though he had been trying for weeks, he could not see another way around it. He sighed again.  
  
"I am speaking of you, Harry," he said quietly.  
  
For a moment, Harry seemed unable to speak. After he had taken a moment to register what Dumbledore had just said, he whispered, "Me?"  
  
"You are not obligated to agree, Harry," Dumbledore responded, looking at the young man's astonished face closely. "Indeed, you have no binding obligation whatsoever, and I would not blame you in the slightest if you refused."  
  
"Refused?" Harry echoed, still trying to understand what the Headmaster was talking about. Did Dumbledore mean that Harry himself should attempt to breach the Death Eater ranks, to convince Voldemort and everyone else that he had changed sides? Surely not…and just as Harry rejected this thought as completely implausible, the true weight of the meaning behind Dumbledore's words hit him and he felt the color drain from his face.  
  
"You want me to break into Voldemort's mind…on purpose?" Harry asked, knowing immediately how dangerous such an attempt would be, but also knowing that he could never refuse. He knew Dumbledore would not have asked him if there were any other way for the Order to obtain the information they needed.  
  
"Yes, Harry. It is for this very reason that you have been training in Legilimency," Dumbledore answered, seeing the now-familiar flame of determination in Harry's eyes and knowing that the young man was willing to take on the task.  
  
"I thought…" Harry began, still trying to wrap his mind around the task which had been assigned to him. "I thought I was just learning that as another defense?"  
  
"I had hoped that would be its only use," Dumbledore responded, "but I must admit that I have known ever since I learned of your unlikely connection with Voldemort that this might become necessary."  
  
"I've never tried that before," Harry said. "Won't he know I'm there, like he did when I saw the attack on Mr. Weasley last year?"  
  
"You have had considerable training against that eventuality, Harry," Dumbledore reminded him, "and I believe you are ready. You and I will discuss it further at our meeting on Tuesday, but you have now earned the right to some rest."  
  
Harry stared at the Headmaster in astonishment. He had been longing to return to his friends and to his dormitory ever since his meeting with Dumbledore had begun, but now, just after the Headmaster had given him this information, he was being dismissed?  
  
"Harry, I would prefer it if you did not share this, even with Miss Weasley, Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley just yet. Let us make certain that our plans are set into motion first."  
  
Harry nodded, and as he looked at the Headmaster, the thought suddenly struck him that it might be Dumbledore who needed rest, even more than he himself did. He was looking older than Harry had ever seen him, and the absence of the twinkle in his eyes seemed to deepen the lines on his face and make him appear frailer than ever.  
  
"Have you any other inquiries, Harry?" Dumbledore asked politely, rising from the chair opposite Harry to lead the way to his office door.  
  
"No, sir," Harry answered, although he still had a million questions in his mind.  
  
"Then I will bid you good night. Please go straight to Gryffindor Tower. It does not do to be wandering the castle alone in the dark."  
  
"Good night, Professor," Harry said, and he turned his back and left the office, closing the door softly behind him. As he proceeded down the rotating staircase, his mind was whirling with the responsibility that had been placed upon him. He had known that the time was drawing near for him to become more active in the war effort, but somehow, now that his first real task was at hand, he found himself wishing yet again that he was not The Boy Who Lived.  
  


***

  
Harry walked slowly back to the common room, fatigue and worry weighting every step he took. The corridors were almost clear, as everyone had left the Great Hall some time before he had left Dumbledore's office, and curfew was fast approaching.  
  
" _Carpe diem_ ," he said tiredly to the Fat Lady. She did not swing open in her usual fashion, but stayed closed and stared at him imperiously, her arms crossed.  
  
" _Carpe diem_ ," Harry repeated. He was not in the mood for games from the portrait.  
  
"Password?" the Fat Lady asked as though Harry had not said anything.  
  
" _Carpe diem_ ," Harry said again, more insistently.  
  
"That is not the password," the Fat Lady declared. "No password, no entry. You know the rules!"  
  
"I've been living here for six years!" Harry said in frustration. "You know I live in here!"  
  
"How am I to know you are not an imposter?" the Fat Lady responded cheekily, fluttering her eyelashes at Harry.  
  
"I'm not! When did we get a new password?"  
  
"The password was reset this morning," the Fat Lady responded.  
  
"How was I supposed to -"  
  
"Harry!" Ginny said as she came up behind him, her face etched with concern. "When you never came to dinner I went to the Head's office to look for you, but that painting on the third floor told me that you'd already come back this way. How did we miss each other?" She kissed him softly on the lips.  
  
Harry returned the kiss, but it must have been obvious that his mind was elsewhere because Ginny pulled away after only a moment and looked up into Harry's eyes. "Harry, is everything all right? What did Professor Dumbledore want to speak to you about?"  
  
Harry shook his head slightly and cast around for a change of subject. He had promised Professor Dumbledore he would not reveal the subject of their meeting. Even if the headmaster hadn't asked him to keep it secret he could not imagine how to tell his friends what he was going to do, but he knew that silence would only serve to worry Ginny more.  
  
"What's the new password?" he asked in a would-be casual voice. He knew that, as a prefect, Ginny would have been given the passwords on the train.  
  
"It's ' _veni vidi vici_ ,'" Ginny told him, and she took his hand as the portrait swung forward to admit them, only letting go when she had to climb through the entrance to the common room.  
  
As soon as they reached their usual spot, finding Ron and Hermione waiting there for them snuggled together in one of the large squashy armchairs, Ginny turned and gazed straight into his green eyes with her deep brown ones. Her eyes were still so full of sadness. With Fred's death still such a fresh wound, Harry was glad he was obligated not to tell them because he did not think he could bear to add one more burden to Ginny's shoulders or to see the looks on their faces when he told them what he must do.  
  
Ginny, however, had other ideas. "Harry," she said firmly, "I want to know what's going on."  
  
Harry looked at her face, which seemed to have grown so much more serious, so much more mature than it had been only a week ago. His gaze moved to Ron and then to Hermione, and he was startled to find that their faces, too, bore the unmistakable signs of age. Fred's death had affected them all greatly. Dumbledore had told Harry at the beginning of term that he was no longer a child - it was now apparent that his friends were no longer children either.  
  
"Harry?" Ron asked, snapping Harry out of his thoughts. "What did Dumbledore want to talk to you about, mate?"  
  
"He - erm - just wanted to go over what we were going to be doing this term," Harry said, feeling his face redden. It was true enough, but he hated misleading his friends.  
  
"Harry, consider who you're talking to," Hermione said. "Whatever it is, I'm sure he didn't want you to keep it a secret from _us_."  
  
He sighed, and reasoned that he could tell them part of the conversation without revealing what Dumbledore wanted him to do. "The Order's worried because no one has heard from Voldemort since…"  
  
"Since Fred died," Ginny said quietly.  
  
"Yeah," Harry said. "He wanted to know if I'd seen anything."  
  
"Have you?" Ginny asked, squeezing his shoulders.  
  
"No," Harry answered.  
  
"Dumbledore already knew that, though, didn't he?" Hermione asked shrewdly.  
  
"He just wanted to make sure," Harry said and then quickly changed the subject to something he was sure would distract everyone. "Do you reckon Draco Malfoy's a Death Eater now?" he asked.  
  
"Malfoy?" Ron asked, laughing bitterly and without humor. "A Death Eater? You-Know-Who'd have to be insane to bring on that slinking little ferret, wouldn't he?"  
  
"I do think Malfoy's too young," Hermione said. "I've never heard of Voldemort bringing on an underage wizard."  
  
"He has seemed rather different this year," Ginny said. "Even more arrogant, if that's possible."  
  
"But a Death Eater?" Hermione said doubtfully. "That just doesn't seem probable, does it?"  
  
Harry nodded, although he himself was convinced that Malfoy had been a Death Eater since before the start of school.  
  
The foursome discussed the possibility for a few more minutes, and when Harry was certain that they had forgotten their original question, he yawned widely and said he was going to bed.  
  
Ginny walked him to the staircase and kissed him before he went up to the dormitories. Before she released him, she whispered into his ear, "I know you're hiding something, Harry, and whatever it is, I want you to know that I will be behind you every step of the way. I love you."  
  
Harry nodded and held her tightly for a few moments before heading up the stone staircase.  
  
When he reached the dorm, which was empty but for Neville's pet toad, he changed quickly, pulled the hangings on his four-poster, and stared at the hangings, his heart racing.  
  
Dumbledore wanted him to actively break into the Dark Lord's mind. Harry wasn't sure if he would be able to do it, and in the unlikely event that he could, he didn't know how he would remain undetected. He knew he had become a reasonably skilled Legilimens, but if Dumbledore wasn't able to accomplish it, he just didn't know how they expected him to.  
  
Still, he reasoned, he had to try. He had vowed after Fred's death to do whatever it took to stop Voldemort, and if this is what it took, he knew he had no choice. As he lay silently in his bed, he hoped beyond hope that he would succeed. Even so, in the small part of his mind that usually stayed hidden, the part which still held the spirit of a boy only sixteen years old, he was more afraid than he had been in his entire life.  
  
Harry must have dropped off to sleep before Ron and the others came into the dormitory, for he remembered nothing else until he woke the next morning just in time for breakfast. Everyone else was already gone, and he realized with a pang that he had not remembered to cast the silencing charm on himself the night before. He was glad nothing had happened, but once again, he found Voldemort's silence to be extremely disconcerting.  
  
Ginny was waiting for him in the common room, and they walked down for breakfast hand-in-hand, not speaking after they had wished one another a good morning. Harry hoped that they day would be a normal one, perhaps his last before he began his new assignment with Dumbledore the next day. When they entered the Great Hall and saw the students chattering seriously with one another and Hermione waving them down, a copy of the Daily Prophet in her hand, he knew that something important had happened.  
  
"Harry! Ginny!" Hermione exclaimed as they joined their fellow Gryffindors at the long house table. "I don't believe it!"  
  
"What, Hermione?" Harry was not in the mood for riddles this morning, and hoped that whatever had happened, Hermione would out with it and get it over with.  
  
"It's Fudge!" Hermione responded. "He's been sacked!"  
  
"Sacked?" Harry asked as he sat down. "Why? George said that Percy said there was trouble at the Ministry, but I didn't know the Minister for Magic could be sacked without a vote or something."  
  
"The Wizengamot met right after Christmas and someone moved for a vote of no-confidence," Hermione answered. "Apparently, the response was almost unanimous."  
  
"They sacked him!" Ron said thickly, his mouth full of bacon and eggs.  
  
"That's disgusting, Ronald," Ginny said, making a face at him.  
  
Ron swallowed. "Girls," he muttered. "Who cares about table courtesy at a time like this?"  
  
"Who's taking his place?" Harry asked, hoping it would be someone they knew.  
  
"Well, there will have to be an election, won't there? In the interim, though, they've picked a witch no one's ever heard of, even though she's been working at the Ministry for years. She was an Unspeakable," Hermione said, scanning the front-page article in the Daily Prophet with great interest. "Her name is Imelda Arnold, and it says here that she was Head Girl at Hogwarts in her day and is said to be one of the most intelligent and talented witches at the Ministry."  
  
"Well, that's something," Harry said. "I'll ask Dumbledore about her tomorrow."  
  
"So you're meeting with him as usual tomorrow?" Ginny asked shrewdly. "Nothing before that?"  
  
"No, just meeting with him at our regular time," Harry answered. At least this would not seem too suspicious.  
  
"All right," Ginny said, but she glanced significantly at Ron and Hermione before she began eating her own breakfast. Harry wondered what they had discussed the previous night after he had gone to bed.  
  
"You two had better hurry," Hermione chided. "You were late coming down today, and we've got classes in fifteen minutes."  
  
"Right," Ron said, even though she had been talking to Harry and Ginny. "Enough time for another helping, then. I'm starving." All four of them rolled their eyes as he refilled his plate.  
  


***

  
The Ministry was in turmoil. With Fudge's sudden sacking and the rise to power of someone that few people knew and no one knew well, everyone from the Minister's office down was concerned about the security of their jobs. By the end of her first day in office, Interim Minister Arnold had assured most Ministry personnel that their jobs were quite secure as long as they were performing as required.  
  
Those closest to Minister Fudge, however, were not so lucky. His immediate staff had all been informed that if they were to retain their jobs at the Ministry, they should apply for different departments. Imelda Arnold had her own staff, and she was not eager to keep anyone too closely connected to Fudge in her direct employ.  
  
Percy Weasley was the second wizard to receive his notification, and as he began packing his personal belongings into a leather satchel he knew that he would not remain at the Ministry. Ever since Fred's death, Percy had realized more clearly just how little the Ministry had done to prevent Voldemort's rise to power, and he was ashamed of himself for having any part in it. As soon as he had everything packed up, he sent an owl to his longtime-girlfriend Penelope Clearwater and proceeded to the Apparition point located in a far corner of the Atrium.  
  
Arthur Weasley heard what had happened almost immediately after Percy, himself, had found out, and he met his third son at the outer door to the Minister's offices. "Percy, I'm so sorry this has happened," he said sincerely, knowing how important this job had been to his son.  
  
"I'm not, Father," Percy said shortly, not believing for a second that his father was sorry.  
  
"I am prepared to offer you a position in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office," Arthur began.  
  
Percy looked at him in surprise. Although he knew his family had forgiven him, he had not expected this, and his old pride reasserted itself just a little as he wondered whether or not his father was offering him this job out of pity and nothing more. "A position?" he repeated disbelievingly.  
  
"Yes," Arthur answered firmly. "You're an intelligent young man, Percy, and we are several staff members short. Unfortunately, as you well know, the charming of Muggle objects has become both more common and more malicious over the past year. I would be most grateful if you became a member of our department."  
  
"Thank you, Father," Percy replied sincerely. He truly was appreciative of the offer; he had not supposed that anyone in the Ministry would be eager to hire the former Junior Assistant to Minister Fudge. However, he still did not wish to continue working for the Ministry, so he said politely, "I think I am going to explore one other opportunity before I seriously consider staying with the Ministry. May I have until the end of the day to decide?"  
  
Arthur was surprised. He knew how much Percy had loved the importance of his job at the Ministry, and frankly, he had expected the young businesswizard to jump at the opportunity to remain there. A thought came unbidden into his head as he considered where else Percy might be seeking employment, and he fought a smile as he answered seriously, "Certainly, Percy. Send me an owl with your decision as soon as possible." He kept his voice formal to assure Percy that the offer was a sincere one, knowing that his son would not quickly accept any favors.  
  
As Arthur walked Percy to the apparition point and watched as he waited his turn and then apparated out of the Ministry, he hoped his suspicions would prove correct and that Percy was, in fact, going to Diagon Alley. He headed back to his office, hoping that he would hear from his sons soon.  
  
With a small pop, Percy appeared in the small alley behind the Leaky Cauldron and quickly used his wand to open the gateway into Diagon Alley. Carrying his leather satchel and still dressed in his pressed and starched pinstriped business robes, he appeared to be on important business, and he spoke to no one as he strode quickly down the main road and to the entrance of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes.  
  
George did not look up as the door dinged Percy's entrance to the shop. Percy realized with a pang that his brother was, once again, sitting disconsolately behind the counter, staring into space, his face set in the now-familiar expression of immense sadness.  
  
The store had been put back in order by a team led by Lee Jordan and Angelina Johnson, and no traces of the battle now remained. They had repaired everything they had been able to repair, and had replaced everything else from the storerooms in the basement under the shop. Under Angelina's direction, they had even rearranged parts of the shop so that it would not look exactly as it had that night. As Percy walked through the shelves of joke merchandise, he once again thought in some surprise about how successful the shop had been.  
  
"George?" he asked softly as he approached the counter. "How's business?" Percy was still too formal to ask his brother directly how he was feeling, so he followed his usual habit of discussing the store. He did not realize it, but in this way he actually helped George quite a lot by giving him something to think about besides his own sadness.  
  
George's head snapped up and he registered a slight bit of surprise when he saw his older brother. "Slow since the students have gone back to school," he answered somberly. "I expect that we'll begin getting mail-orders soon."  
  
Percy nodded. "I imagine the students will want skiving snackboxes as they get back into their classes," he answered, noticing the irony of discussing something that he had once thought to be silly and irresponsible as if it were a serious item of business.  
  
"What are you doing here, Perce?" George asked. "Shouldn't you still be at the Ministry?" Even though Percy had taken to visiting the shop more and more, he had still maintained his schedule in Fudge's office for the most part.  
  
"Hasn't it been in the Prophet yet?" Percy asked with some surprise.  
  
"Hasn't what?" George asked in turn. He had not read the morning's copy of the Wizarding newspaper; it was in the back of the shop, stacked with other unread papers and correspondence.  
  
"The Wizengamot sacked Minister Fudge," Percy informed his brother, and in spite of himself, George smiled a bit.  
  
"It's about time," he answered, and then quickly added, "no offense."  
  
"None taken," Percy answered honestly. "The Ministry has not done nearly enough to protect the public this year, have they?"  
  
"No," George answered, a trace of bitterness in his voice.  
  
"The interim Minister, a witch called Imelda Arnold, sacked everyone from Fudge's office," Percy continued, keeping his voice carefully impassive.  
  
"What about Dad?" George asked. He was not surprised that a new Minister would want a new staff, and though he felt a bit bad for Percy, he thought the decision was a good one.  
  
"Dad's fine," Percy answered. "They aren't firing anyone besides the ones in the Minister's direct employ."  
  
"That's good," George said. "So what are you going to do?"  
  
"I was hoping," Percy began, and was surprised to find that he felt nervous. "I was hoping that possibly…well, possibly that you might like some help with the shop. I need a job, see, and…" He trailed off, not liking to mention that he thought George could use the help. Anything that reminded George of Fred's death seemed cruel, as the young wizard had not come very far in his recovery and was prone to fits of crushing depression at the loss of his twin.  
  
"You want to work here?" George asked in surprise.  
  
"Well, yes, that is, if you want me to," Percy answered, wondering why asking his brother for a job was making him feel so nervous.  
  
George thought for a few moments. Percy had been surprisingly helpful over the past two weeks, and if he was honest with himself, he needed the help. Although George was a brilliant inventor, he found the financial aspects of running the shop wearing. He and Fred had always split those duties. Additionally, in their own roundabout way, he and Percy had become closer than they had ever been. He could never replace Fred, but it was nice to have someone to talk to.  
  
"Sure, Perce," he said softly, his face sad once again. "When do you want to start?"  
  
"I need to tell Penelope," Percy said, "but there's no reason why I can't go down the street to the post office and send and owl from there. How about today, after lunch?"  
  
"Okay," George answered. "What about pay, and all that?" He was afraid that his ambitious brother would require more than he could afford.  
  
"Let's do all that later, George," Percy said briskly, "after we've taken a look at the books."  
  
George nodded, wondering just how much his brother had changed over the past weeks. This Percy seemed every inch a Weasley, caring for family over ambition, and the transformation was so startling that if anyone had told him what was going to happen, he would not have believed it.  
  
As he watched Percy leave the shop, his business robes snapping smartly behind him, George wished once again that the door would open and his twin would come through, grinning fit to burst from a new idea. George was beginning to understand that it would never happen, but he could not help wishing. Still, he reflected, wouldn't Fred have regarded Percy coming to work for the shop as the biggest joke of the year? George couldn't help but smile just a bit as he imagined his twin's disbelief. This was certainly an interesting development.  
  


***

  
After a particularly horrible Potions class in which they had been required to brew a healing potion which stung their eyes and smelled of boiled fish and ammonia, Harry bid farewell to Hermione and went up the dungeon stairs to the large classroom in which he was learning dueling from Kingsley Shacklebolt.  
  
As he walked, he practiced in his mind the steps that he had to take to accomplish wandless magic. With his new responsibilities, Harry knew that it was more important than ever for him to learn to perform wandlessly. The shared cores between his and Voldemort's wands made it impossible for them to duel one another traditionally, and if Harry was to have any chance of success, he must learn to do it another way.  
  
"Hello, Harry," Kingsley greeted him seriously. "How are you?"  
  
"I'm all right, sir," Harry answered. He had not seen Shacklebolt since Fred's funeral.  
  
"Good," Kingsley responded, not being one to get into long discussions about feelings and emotions. He was here to do a job, and Dumbledore had told him that it was time to redouble Harry's already arduous training schedule. The Auror was not sure why the Headmaster had made the request, but to him the reasons did not matter. If Dumbledore wanted Harry's training increased, there had to be a reason for it, and Shacklebolt took his responsibility seriously. He would have Harry ready for whatever he had to face, whenever that was to happen.  
  
"Kindly stow your wand, Harry," he requested as usual, and Harry quickly put his wand into his pocket. He had learned the hard way that stowing his wand across the room was no longer a smart idea.  
  
Kingsley gave Harry no further time to prepare, but attacked as soon as his student's wand was safely out of his immediate grasp. " _Stupefy_!" he cried, and Harry did not even begin to react. The spell hit him square in the chest, and he fell without making a sound.  
  
Shacklebolt quickly revived him and pulled him roughly to his feet. "What was that, Potter?" he asked roughly.  
  
Harry started at the harsh note to Kingsley's tone. "I'm sorry, sir," he said, not sure how else to respond.  
  
"You're sorry? If this had been a duel with a Death Eater, you would be dead!" the Auror told him roughly. "As I told you before the holidays, I expect more from you. I will take nothing less than complete concentration. If you are not prepared to work, leave the room, and good luck to you. I will not be returning."  
  
Harry stared at the tall wizard who was glaring at him so fiercely. Kingsley Shacklebolt had always pushed him to his very limits, but never before had he been quite so severe.  
  
"What will it be, Harry?" Shacklebolt asked mercilessly.  
  
"I'll work, sir," Harry answered, still a bit shocked.  
  
"There is no excuse for failure, Harry," Kingsley said, and his tone softened almost imperceptibly. "I know you have been through a lot, but that will not stop Voldemort, and so it must not stop our work either. You must be prepared."  
  
Harry nodded and attempted to prepare his defenses, feeling his earlier determination bubbling to the surface as he thought of all that the evil wizard had done, and all that he was sure to do as long as he remained unchallenged. As Harry concentrated, he suddenly felt more powerful than he had ever felt before, and his fingers tingled with magical energy.  
  
" _Tarantellegra_!" Kingsley shouted suddenly.  
  
Without thinking, Harry cried, " _Protego_!" and swept his hand diagonally across his body, putting every bit of force he possessed into the spell. It was hard to say who was more astonished, Kingsley or his student, when Harry's translucent golden shield appeared in front of his body.  
  
"Maintain your guard, Harry," Kingsley said, and began firing a series of curses at the younger wizard, one after another with no pauses in between. Each curse rebounded from Harry's shield, causing it to shimmer slightly, but it did not falter until Kingsley, abandoning any pretense that this was a normal professor-student tutorial, shouted, " _Imperio_!"  
  
Harry's shield broke under the unforgivable curse, and he experienced the same wonderful, euphoric feeling that he'd had in the fake Professor Moody's defense classes during his fourth year.  
  
" _Break your wand_ ," a voice inside his head demanded, as though from very far away. " _Take it out of your pocket and break it in two_."  
  
Just as he had been when the fake Moody had put the curse on him during his fourth year, Harry was tempted to obey the order. _Why not_? he thought.  
  
 _You don't want to do that,_ another part of his mind responded. _You like your wand, it's a good wand. It's never let you down._  
  
" _Just break it_ ," the first voice, Kingsley's voice, insisted. " _Do it now_!"  
  
"No!" Harry shouted, throwing the curse off entirely. He glared at Kingsley, who was once again looking rather astonished. "What'd you want to go and do that for?" he asked angrily.  
  
"I'd heard you could throw off the Imperious Curse, Harry," Kingsley said. "I was testing you much in the same way a Death Eater would have. The first thing they would want to do with a formidable opponent would be to disarm that opponent permanently."  
  
"What if I hadn't been able to throw it off?" Harry demanded, breathing heavily.  
  
"You would have broken your own wand," Kingsley replied matter-of-factly.  
  
"How come you didn't, I don't know, tell me to do gymnastics or sing a song or something, like Professor Moody did?"  
  
"Do you think a Death Eater is going to make you do gymnastics?" Kingsley asked, the slightest touch of exasperation in his tone. "Harry, my job is to prepare you for the real thing. Incidentally, I am quite impressed with your ability to throw off the curse. Many wizards do not have the strength of mind to accomplish this."  
  
Harry nodded, his breathing slowing back to normal. He understood why Shacklebolt had done what he did, but that didn't mean he had to like it. Without really thinking, Harry decided that it was time to turn the tables on his dueling tutor. He quickly pulled his wand out of his pocket, pointed at the Auror, and cried, " _Expelliarmus_!"  
  
Kingsley reacted instantly, raising a strong invisible shield charm so that Harry was forced to dodge his own spell's rebound. As he came out of his roll, he cast another spell at his tutor just as a freezing curse came flying his way. Without thinking, Harry raised his shield with his wand-free hand and shot another disarming spell at Shacklebolt immediately after, using his wand.  
  
The Auror was immensely surprised. This young man had become better at dueling than any student he'd ever taught in any of the Auror training courses. He dodged the disarming spell, avoiding it only by the merest fraction of an inch, and shot another curse at Harry, which was easily deflected by the shield that Harry was maintaining even as he fired another curse at Kingsley.  
  
After another five minutes, Kingsley called the duel so they would have time to discuss all that had happened. Once he and Harry were seated at their small table at the back of the room, however, he found that there was little to say. He had never seen such a display from his student or any other student before.  
  
"I'm sorry for attacking you, Mr. Shacklebolt," Harry said. "I don't know what came over me."  
  
"That's all right, Harry. I'm glad to see that you are willing to be proactive, although in future, I would prefer it if you did not do so until I have completed our objectives for the day. May I ask you what caused you to try raising your shield charm and using your wand offensively at the same time? I never taught you that."  
  
Harry shrugged. "I don't know," he said honestly. "It's just the way it happened."  
  
"It was very good, Harry," Kingsley replied, treating his student to a rare shadow of a smile. "That is a skill which I did not expect you to use for quite some time, but now that you have made a beginning, we will continue to develop it. Now, I believe your time is up for the day. I will see you later this week, Harry, and I expect you to come fully prepared. You are to practice nightly, do you understand?"  
  
"Yes, sir," Harry responded automatically, shouldering his bag and heading down to the Great Hall for lunch.  
  
Kingsley watched the sixth-year student leave them room, seeming no worse the wear for their dueling practice, and sighed. Harry was progressing more quickly than he had imagined, and the amount of power contained in the young wizard seemed greater by the day. The Auror noticed that this exponential increase in Harry's abilities had come soon after the death of a good friend, and he too, had noticed the gleam of determination in his eyes. Although he still needed considerable training, Harry Potter was quickly becoming one of the most powerful wizards Kingsley Shacklebolt had ever met.  
  


***

  
"Harry!" Neville called as he caught sight of the familiar messy black hair in the common room that night. "Oi! Harry!"  
  
Harry turned and tried to smile at Neville, although he had a pounding headache and was ready to spend an evening writing their latest essay for Potions. "Hello, Neville," he said tiredly.  
  
"Harry, I heard we were going to have a D.A. meeting this week. Is that true?" Neville asked hopefully.  
  
Harry had not given it much thought, but he realized that they did need to meet that week if they were to continue training.  
  
"Yeah, Neville," he answered. "It'll be Wednesday as usual, in the Room of Requirement. Can you spread the word?" He hoped Neville would take this request seriously and leave him alone for a bit.  
  
"Sure!" Neville said cheerfully, and immediately began making the rounds in the common room, informing people of the upcoming meeting.  
  
That particular problem taken care of, Harry flopped into his usual chair next to the fire and began working on his Potions essay while he waited for Ginny, Ron and Hermione to return from their Prefect duties.  
  
As Harry struggled with the particular uses of salamander droppings in healing burns, he heard his friends come through the portrait hole, and whatever they were discussing, their expressions were very serious.  
  
"Come off it, Hermione," Ron was saying in a loud whisper. "Dumbledore would never -"  
  
All three broke off the conversation when they saw Harry staring at them, and Ginny made a brave attempt at a smile, although it looked like she had been crying just moments before.  
  
"Ginny?" Harry asked in concern. "What's the matter?"  
  
"Nothing, Harry," Ginny said, wiping her eyes.  
  
"I'd leave it if I were you, mate," Ron cautioned, and Harry did, although he could not help wondering what Ginny had been so upset about. She had not cried most of the week, preferring, as did all of them, to be as strong as possible in the wake of Fred's death.  
  
She seemed to be all right as she pulled out parchment and quill from her bag and set to work on an Astronomy essay. She could tell just from their first day back that the spring term of her O.W.L. year was going to be quite trying.  
  
Harry finished his Potions essay in just under two hours and packed up his bag, having no other homework that evening. He turned to Ron, thinking of suggesting a game of chess, but Ron and Hermione seemed too deep in conversation.  
  
"I'm going to go to bed," he told the group of them, and Ginny looked up from her work just long enough to give him a quick kiss before he took his things upstairs.  
  
Just before he turned the corner, Harry looked back at his friends. All three of them had abandoned their work the moment he had turned his back, and their heads were together in deep conversation. Feeling more than a little left out of whatever they were planning, Harry sighed and continued up the stairs. That night, he remembered to cast the silencing charm on himself once again, although he was now almost certain that he would not need it.  
  


***

  
Draco Malfoy stared disdainfully at the huge, stupid beast standing in front of him. He had been to visit the giant almost daily, offering more gifts as he had been instructed, and it seemed as though his plan was about to come to fruition.  
  
"Hagger Gurg," the giant grunted bitterly, gesturing to the gift of a large, carved wood club that Draco had presented him with only moments before. The club was large enough that Draco had had to shrink it in order to be able to carry it into the forest after dinner in the Great Hall, and the handle was carved smooth out of hard oak. To a giant, this would appear to be a most superior weapon.  
  
"Hagrid is only the Gurg as long as you allow him to be," Draco repeated what he had said time and time again. "You are the largest and strongest of the Forest Giants. You should rightfully be the Gurg."  
  
"Hagger Gurg," Grawp repeated, this time in a lower and angrier growl than before.  
  
"Suit yourself," Draco said, preparing to depart. "Present that gift to your Gurg, the smallest and weakest giant of the forest, when you see him."  
  
Draco knew perfectly well that Grawp had not given Hagrid any of the gifts, but had hoarded them in the hollow of a large rotten tree near his confinement area. He had reported this fact to his father, who said it was a sign that Grawp did not completely accept that Hagrid had the rule of the forest.  
  
As he turned to leave the forest once again, the blonde Slytherin heard the giant pick up the large club, and then smiled slightly as he heard the tell-tale swishes of it being swung forcefully through the air. _Success will come soon_ , he thought, _and I will finally prove my value to Lord Voldemort and to my father_.  
  
Draco, however, was not prepared for what happened next. He was no more than one hundred meters from Grawp when he suddenly heard the snap of a metal chain breaking, the repeated swish of the new club and the heavy footfalls of the giant as he hurried out of the forest and towards the Hogwarts grounds, violence written on every large, leathery feature. Draco quickly stepped out of the giant's path and watched as he passed, his heavy footfalls echoing through the forest like the dull rolls of thunder in a summer storm.  
  
When he was certain it would be safe to follow, he hurried after Grawp and grinned even more widely when the giant went straight towards his half-brother's house.  
  
Without a hint of a warning or a greeting, Grawp raised the club high and smashed it onto the thatched roof of Hagrid's hut, causing a large noise and a cloud of rubble to rise around the damaged area. Draco, knowing that the racket would attract attention from the school, covered himself quickly with his invisibility cloak and remained at the edge of the forest to watch.  
  
To his astonishment, Hagrid came out the front door of his ruined cabin, his crossbow in his hands. "Grawpy! What are you doing?" he cried as the giant swung his new club again, demolishing the east wall of the house. "Grawpy, STOP!" he called futilely.  
  
The giant paid no heed to his half-brother's words. "Grawp GURG!" he bellowed, and swung the club hard in Hagrid's direction. Hagrid tried to dodge, but such a large target coming at that much speed was impossible to miss, and Draco winced as he heard the sickening thud of bones breaking as the club made contact with the large gamekeeper.  
  
Just then, Dumbledore and several other teachers from the school came running down from the castle, firing spells in quick succession, all of which seemed to bounce off the giant's tough hide. Grawp, however, seemed to see this invasion as cause enough to leave the scene, so with one final bellow of "Grawp GURG!" he disappeared into the forest.  
  
Under ordinary circumstances, Draco knew the other professors would have pursued the giant, but Hagrid's need was obviously greater to them, although he could not understand why they would want to save that stupid oaf of a gamekeeper.  
  
Hagrid was lying motionless on the ground surrounded by professors and Madam Pomfrey when Draco Malfoy took his leave. He was proceeding straight to the dungeon chamber to inform his master that his mission had been completed, and his arrogance and pride in himself was so great that he did not see the sad gaze of Albus Dumbledore as the older man watched the footprints moving away from the scene of the crime and towards the school, nor did he see the silvery signal emerge from the Headmaster's wand.


	33. Reversing the Trend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the truth comes out about what Dumbledore has asked Harry to do next, reactions are both predictable and touching as Harry proceeds to Grimmauld Place for his first attempt to breach the mind of the most evil wizard of all times.

Minerva McGonagall stood in her tartan dressing gown, listening closely for any sign of disturbance within the school and awaiting a second message from the Headmaster. He had directed her to remain at the school while he and Professors Flitwick, Sinistra and Tonks as well as Madam Pomfrey had hurried down to Hagrid's cabin. In the current climate, the students could not be left unattended even for a moment, and Professor McGonagall took her responsibilities seriously.  
  
Since the news of Fudge's sacking and Imelda Arnold's rise to the top position in the Ministry, Dumbledore had requested that the teachers at Hogwarts stay even more alert than usual. Nothing suggested that anything was amiss, but in times of war and political upheaval, one could never be too certain. Most of the professors had been around long enough to know just how true that could be.  
  
The familiar translucent silver signal came through her office door a few moments later, and McGonagall listened attentively to the message Albus Dumbledore had sent. The tone of the message was as calm and even as ever, but she thought she detected a note of extreme worry behind the sedate words.  
  
"Minerva," the Headmaster's voice echoed around the wood-paneled office, "Rubeus Hagrid has been seriously injured, and it appears as though there is a giant in residence in the forest. We will be bringing Hagrid back up to the school. Contact as many Order members as possible to conduct a search on the premises."  
  
As McGonagall went about the methodical business of contacting the Order, she wondered how a giant could have been living in the forest without anyone's knowledge. With the strict security measures imposed upon the school this year, she just didn't see how it had happened. She supposed that, as long as the giant had remained in the forest the wards would not have detected it, but why hadn't Hagrid himself seen it? Was this the reason Draco Malfoy had been visiting the forest regularly since the beginning of term?  
  
Her fire burned green and Order members exited one by one, received their updates and instructions, and left her office as quickly as she came. As McGonagall stood post at the school, Bill, George, Percy, Molly and Arthur Weasley came through the Floo one after another, followed closely by Remus Lupin (who perhaps knew the forest better than anyone), Kingsley Shacklebolt, Mundungus Fletcher, and two newer members who she hadn't met yet.  
  
After the last Order member had been dispatched to search the Forbidden Forest for the giant, McGonagall prepared to go up to the hospital wing to check on Hagrid. She had received no further message and did not yet know whether he had survived. As her thoughts returned to Hagrid, she suddenly stopped in her tracks and mentally chided herself for not realizing exactly what she needed to do.  
  
The only possible answer as to how the giant was living in the forest without having been discovered was that Hagrid, much as he had with the baby dragon all those years ago and the acromantula when he was in school, was actively hiding the giant there. The questions were twofold: why would he do such a thing, and why had the giant turned on him?  
  
Her lips thin, Minerva McGonagall abruptly changed directions and proceeded up the many staircases to the one place in which she was certain she could find answers. Potter, Weasley and Granger had a habit of knowing more about what went on at Hogwarts than most of the professors and sometimes even Albus Dumbledore. As she approached the portrait guarding the entrance to Gryffindor Tower, McGonagall hated the fact that she was about to deliver more bad news, but she knew they would find out soon enough, and she badly needed the information they might have.  
  


* * *

  
Harry had not even begun to fall asleep when Ron burst through the door, looking highly alarmed.  
  
"Harry! You still awake, mate? Professor McGonagall's downstairs and she wants to see all four of us immediately!"  
  
Harry sat straight up and grabbed his glasses from his side table. "What does she want?" he asked.  
  
"I don't know, but she looks really mad or upset, or something..." Ron trailed off as Harry quickly pulled on his robes and shoes. Professor McGonagall never came to the Gryffindor common room unless something was seriously wrong.  
  
When Harry had finished dressing and had armed himself with his wand once again, he hurried down the stairs after Ron to meet Ginny, Hermione, and a grim-looking Professor McGonagall. The rest of the Gryffindors had stopped working on their homework, chatting and playing games to stare at them, wondering what had happened.  
  
"Potter, Weasley," McGonagall said seriously, "I would like the four of your to come with me to my office."  
  
"Yes, Professor," Harry said, "but what –"  
  
"We will discuss it in my office, Potter," she responded, and the four of them followed her out the portrait hole and to her office, which unlocked and opened magically for them as they approached.  
  
When they had all entered the office and McGonagall had closed the door behind them, Hermione was the one who spoke first. "Professor?" she asked tentatively. "What's happened?"  
  
"How long," McGonagall began sternly, "have you known about the giant in the forest?"  
  
Ginny's mouth dropped open; when Harry, Ron and Hermione had told her about Grawp, she had assumed that Dumbledore and everyone else already knew about it. "You didn't know?" she asked.  
  
Harry, Ron and Hermione, however, shifted uncomfortably in their seats. They had known about Grawp since the end of last term, when Hagrid had asked them to care for his half-brother if he got sacked by Professor Umbridge. They were fully aware that Dumbledore and the other teachers had known nothing about it.  
  
"Potter, Weasley and Granger," McGonagall said, correctly interpreting their discomfort, "you will tell me anything you know about this immediately."  
  
"Grawp is Hagrid's half-brother," Harry began, but it suddenly occurred to him that there must be a good reason why McGonagall had come all the way to Gryffindor Tower after curfew to ask them about this. If she had only wanted to give them a telling-off for knowing about Grawp and keeping it secret, she would have waited until morning.  
  
The same thought seemed to occur to Hermione. "Professor McGonagall," she asked, "why are you asking us this now?"  
  
"Miss Granger," McGonagall answered severely, but she seemed to soften slightly before she continued. "All of you, listen to me. Hagrid's house has been attacked."  
  
"Hagrid's house?" Ron asked disbelievingly. "But what about the wards?"  
  
"It appears that the giant – " Professor McGonagall began.  
  
"Grawp," Hermione supplied. "That's his name. Hagrid brought him the summer before fifth year, after he went to see the giants in the mountains."  
  
"It appears that this creature came out of the woods less than an hour ago. We were alerted when the wards bordering the grounds were breached."  
  
"What about Hagrid?" Harry asked, his heart sinking.  
  
"Professor Dumbledore has informed me that Hagrid has been seriously injured," Professor McGonagall said, her voice growing worried. "I do not know anything else at present."  
  
"Hagrid?" Ginny asked softly. "But why did Grawp attack him?"  
  
"It doesn't make any sense," Hermione said. "Hagrid's been taking care of him, and at the end of last term, he even said that Grawp was becoming more social. He was learning to speak English! So why would he do it?"  
  
"Giants are violent, Hermione," Ron said, in a tone suggesting that everyone knew that. "Likely Grawp decided he didn't like living in the forest."  
  
"Professor," Harry asked, "how did Grawp do it? Did he attack with his bare hands or did he have a weapon?"  
  
"I don't know, Potter," McGonagall answered. "We will have more answers when Professor Dumbledore comes. While we are waiting, I need to know anything you know about this giant."  
  
For the next few minutes, Harry, Ron and Hermione filled McGonagall in about Grawp while Ginny listened, interrupting only once. "None of you ever bothered telling me any of this!" she exclaimed indignantly just after Harry and Hermione had finished explaining how they had left the final Quidditch match early and had met the giant for the first time.  
  
"You were playing Quidditch at the time, Ginny, and we did tell you later," Harry said hastily, and she nodded.  
  
"Anyway, Professor," Hermione said, and went on to describe Grawp's intervention when she and Harry were about to be attacked by centaurs. Just as she was describing how the giant had called her "Hermy" and had asked for Hagrid, another translucent silver shape passed through the office door. Professor McGonagall shushed Hermione just as Albus Dumbledore's voice sounded through the office. Harry, Ron, Ginny and Hermione, none of whom had actually been on the receiving end of one of the Order's messages, all jumped slightly at the sound.  
  
"Hagrid is being taken to the hospital wing," Dumbledore's voice said. "Kindly find Mr. Potter, Miss Granger, and Mr. Weasley and bring them along, as I believe they may have information that could be of use."  
  
Harry, Ron and Hermione looked uneasily at one another at these words, and Harry wondered whether they would be told off for not having told anyone about Grawp. There was no time to think on it, though, as McGonagall shooed all four of them out of the office in front of her and toward the hospital wing.  
  
When they got there, they found Hagrid lying unconscious atop the largest hospital cot Harry had ever seen. Ginny gasped and buried her head instinctively in Harry's shoulder at the sight of him. Part of his face seemed to be crushed, and his dark, bushy hair and beard were matted with blood. Harry could tell by the way Hagrid's body was positioned that the rest of his body was badly broken as well. His face was grey and without color, and to Harry and his friends, he looked to be near death.  
  
"Will he…" Hermione whispered, tears running down her face.  
  
"Madam Pomfrey expects Hagrid to make a full recovery," Dumbledore said calmly, "although it will take some time."  
  
"Professor," Harry said as they left the hospital wing and stood in the corridor. "Grawp didn't do that with his hands. Did he have a weapon?"  
  
"He had a large club," squeaked Professor Flitwick.  
  
"A club?" Hermione echoed.  
  
"How'd he get a club?" Harry wondered. "I know Hagrid never gave him any kind of weapon. And what made him turn against Hagrid anyway?"  
  
"I have several theories on that, Harry, and I assure you that we will do all we can to see that nothing of this nature occurs again. It would have been helpful, however, if we had known of this situation before it went so badly awry." The Headmaster looked at each of them in turn, but there was no condemnation in his gaze.  
  
"He asked us not to tell, Professor," Hermione said nervously.  
  
"Loyalty to a friend is indeed a fine quality, Miss Granger," Dumbledore replied simply. “Now, I believe if all of you were to go directly to my office, you might find a surprise waiting for you there."  
  
"A surprise?" Ginny asked. This did not seem to be the time for presents, and she could not imagine what might be in Dumbledore's office that would serve as a surprise for them.  
  
"Yes, Miss Weasley, a surprise," Dumbledore answered, smiling kindly at her. "Best be off now."  
  
The four of them took their leave of the group of professors, but Harry stopped halfway down the corridor and looked over his shoulder. He had just noticed that Professor Snape was nowhere to be found, and just as he noticed that, another thought occurred to him.  
  
"Where is Grawp now?" he asked.  
  
"We have not found him yet, Harry, and we were forced to call off the search due to the darkness. Rest assured, he will be found," Dumbledore answered. "Now to my office, all of you."  
  


* * *

  
The "surprise" turned out to be five dirty, disheveled Weasleys. Molly, Arthur, Bill, Percy and George had just returned from the forest and had requested to see Ginny and Ron before going back to the Burrow. Molly had no sooner heard them coming up the stairs than she was out of her own seat and hugging each of them fiercely. Her children had only been gone for a couple of days, but after Fred, she could hardly bear to let any one of them out of her sight.  
  
"Mum!" Ginny exclaimed, hugging her mother tightly and then stepping back to let Ron have his turn. "What are you doing here?"  
  
"The Order called us out to help search the forest," Bill answered, seeing as how his mother was too busy crushing Ron's ribcage in a fierce hug to answer.  
  
"For Grawp?" Harry asked, just before Mrs. Weasley moved on to hug him.  
  
"Grawp?" Mr. Weasley replied.  
  
"That's the name of the giant who most likely attacked Hagrid," Hermione explained.  
  
Mrs. Weasley sighed, releasing her hold on Harry and settling back down into her chair. "What do you four have to do with this?" she asked tiredly. It seemed as though Harry and her children were always in the middle of whatever was going on.  
  
"Nothing, Mum," Ron answered hastily, knowing his mother would not take kindly to the news that her son had helped harbor a giant in the forest just outside of the school grounds.  
  
For a moment, it looked as though Ginny was going to tell her mother everything she had heard, but glancing at Harry's worried face, she decided to keep it to herself.  
  
"You just make sure you're concentrating on your studies, all of you," Mrs. Weasley said. "Now, tell me about your first day back at classes."  
  
They passed the next hour pleasantly until Arthur regretfully broke up the party, suggesting that the teenagers would need to get a good night's sleep and that the rest of the Weasleys had busy days ahead of them.  
  
After Harry had hugged Mrs. Weasley and shaken hands with Mr. Weasley, Bill, George and Percy, he headed towards the door. It was almost midnight by now, and although he did not like to admit it, he was tired.  
  
"Percy!" Ginny exclaimed as she reached the door. "When did you become an Order member?"  
  
"Just today," Percy replied.  
  
"Right after he came to work for Weasley's Wizard Wheezes," George said seriously, and Harry's jaw dropped. Percy was working for a joke shop?  
  
"I know we all have a lot to talk about," Arthur said, "but now is not the time. We will see one another soon enough, and I trust that you will send Pig and Sammy to us regularly with updates."  
  
"Of course we will, Dad," Ginny said, giving her father an extra hug.  
  
"Now, to bed, all of you!" Molly chided, shooing them out the door before they could see the tears that were once again threatening as she sent her children out of her sight once again. As Ginny passed her on the way out, she gave her mother another hug and whispered something in her ear. Molly looked startled, but nodded, and Ginny hurried to catch up with Harry on their way down the revolving staircase.  
  
Ginny held Harry's hand tightly, pulling him a bit back from Ron and Hermione. "No more secrets, Harry," she said quietly as they walked.  
  
"Secrets?" Harry replied blankly. He was tired, and for the moment thoughts of Grawp and Hagrid had eclipsed the new assignment about which he had not told his friends.  
  
"You didn't tell me that no one knew about the giant," Ginny said simply, and when it looked like Harry was about to protest, she added hastily, "That's okay, I understand. We weren't together then."  
  
Harry wondered where all this was going. "Yeah, I know, and you were playing Seeker when Hagrid introduced us to Grawp, because I had been banned, remember? So it's not like I really had a chance to talk to you about it."  
  
"I know, Harry, but that is not the case now," Ginny interjected. "I'm not upset about that, not really. But I do want to know what else you are hiding, and I know that whatever it is, it's big. I haven't seen you looking so worried in a long time."  
  
"There's nothing –” Harry tried to insist.  
  
"Don't be a prat, Harry," Ginny said. "I know you don't want to tell us whatever it is, and I'm sure you have your reasons, but don't you dare lie to me and tell me there's nothing going on. I'm not stupid, you know, and I'm not a little girl." Her last words sounded almost bitter, and Harry stopped in his tracks, causing her to stop as well.  
  
"Ginny, I never said you were stupid or a little girl," he told her. "It's just that…"  
  
"Just what, Harry?" she asked, but before he could answer, she ducked behind a tapestry and into one of the many secret passages in Hogwarts. Looking around to make sure they would have privacy, she sat with her back to the stone wall, and pulled Harry down to do the same.  
  
"Ginny, it's late," Harry began.  
  
"You're not getting off the hook that easily, Harry Potter. The quicker you tell me what's going on, the quicker you get to go to bed," she insisted.  
  
"Ginny, there are just things you don't need to know!" Harry said with sudden vehemence.  
  
"That's bunk, Harry," Ginny said, putting one finger on his chin and turning his face to look straight into hers. "If something concerns you, it concerns me."  
  
"That's – " Harry began to protest. He did not want her to have any information that could put her in more danger.  
  
"I love you, Harry, or have you forgotten?" Ginny said passionately. "And that's what love is; it means that whatever concerns you, concerns me. It also means that I'm going to worry about you no matter what you do or do not tell me. I know what you're facing, Harry, we all do, and whatever this is, it can't be worse than that. Please tell me, love. Tell me so I can support you, stand with you. It's what I want."  
  
Harry was startled, and if he would admit it, deeply moved by what she had said. He had never in his life have someone speak to him like that, never had someone love him so openly and without reserve. As he looked into her brown eyes, he couldn't find it in his heart to deny her anything.  
  
So, his back against a freezing stone wall and his buttocks growing colder every moment, Harry sat in that secret passageway and told Ginny about everything - about his lessons, about the Order's new plan, about everything he was worried about. He realized about halfway through that he had never even told her that he was learning Legilimency, but she let it slide. When he was finished, there were tears swimming in her eyes, but she kept her head proudly up. Her voice did not waver.  
  
"Is this what has to be done?" she asked directly.  
  
"Yes," Harry answered her, looking away from her face for a moment.  
  
Once again, Ginny turned his head to face her and he could see that her face was set in determination, despite the tears that threatened to fall. "If this is what you have to do, Harry, then I'm with you," she said, her voice steely with strength. "Damn Dumbledore, damn the Order, and damn that evil, twisted bastard who's wrecking everyone's lives. I promised that you would never be left alone again, and if you don't think I meant that, then you should think again. No one has the right to make you do this on your own, and I won't allow it. Never again."  
  
She finished her speech, breathing heavily, and Harry once again was left not knowing how to respond. She saved him the trouble, however. Without even a glance around her, she pulled Harry into a fierce embrace and kissed him long and hard, the first time she had done so since Fred died.  
  
When they finally returned to Gryffindor Tower and to their dormitories, Harry found that falling asleep was not so hard after all.  
  


* * *

  
Ginny and Harry caught Ron and Hermione on the way to breakfast the following morning, and after everyone else had cleared the common room, told them about Dumbledore's plan. It was a sign of the seriousness of the situation that Ron never once complained about missing breakfast. Ron's and Hermione's reactions to the news were almost exactly what Ginny's had been. Hermione looked highly worried and Ron swore that Dumbledore was mental, but they both promised Harry that they would support him in whatever way they could.  
  
"How could Dumbledore ask you not to say anything, Harry?" Hermione said with the merest hint of disapproval in her voice. "Hasn't he always told you that your ability to love and be loved is your greatest strength? Why would he want you to isolate yourself?"  
  
"I don't know," Harry answered. "He just didn't want anyone to find out, I guess."  
  
"But he knows he can trust us," Hermione said indignantly.  
  
"I don't know, Hermione, all right? Let's just go downstairs, or we're going to be late for classes." The truth was, the more Harry thought about it, the sorrier he was that he had told his friends. Having this information just placed them in more danger. They were already in danger of being used as bait, much as Sirius had been at the end of last term, but if Voldemort found out they had information this crucial to the war, he would not hesitate to do whatever he had to do to get it.  
  
Ginny seemed to know what he was thinking as she walked him down to Dumbledore's office. She squeezed his hand and said, "We'll be all right, Harry. Don't worry about us."  
  
"I can't help it," Harry said honestly as they reached the stone gargoyle in front of the Headmaster's office.  
  
Ginny nodded toward the gargoyle and asked him one more time, "You have to do this, right? There's no other way?"  
  
"There's no other way," Harry said resolutely, his heart racing at the thought of what he was about to do.  
  
"Then go do it, Harry," Ginny told him, standing on tiptoe to kiss him on the cheek. "I'll be waiting for you after classes." With one final glance, she broke away from him and walked down the hall, her steps marked by determination.  
  
Harry gulped as he said the password and traveled up the familiar staircase to Dumbledore's office. He had no idea how he was going to do this, and the more he thought about it, the worse the idea began to come. What if Voldemort detected him and used this to break through Harry's defenses? The thought of the information about his friends that Voldemort could find in his mind was enough to terrify Harry. Keeping his defenses up had become second-nature to him, but he knew how hard it would be to do so while he was trying to perform Legilimency, especially over a distance. No one else, not even Dumbledore, could do that, and Harry knew how difficult it would be. The only reason he would be able to do it at all would be because of the connection the two wizards shared, but Harry was worried that even that might not be enough this time.  
  
"Come in, Harry," Dumbledore responded in his customary fashion after Harry had knocked on the door.  
  
"Good morning, Professor," Harry said politely as he set his bag on the floor and seated himself in his usual chair before the Headmaster's desk.  
  
"Are you ready?" Dumbledore asked without preamble.  
  
"I'm ready," Harry said, hoping his voice sounded stronger than he felt.  
  
"I would like to give you one last opportunity to refuse this assignment, Harry, for once we begin there can be no turning back. Are you certain you wish to go forward?"  
  
"I'm sure," Harry answered.  
  
"Then let us begin the training. We will not actually make an attempt today, but rather we will be getting you prepared to do so as quickly as possible. What you must understand is that your ability to connect with Voldemort over large distances; indeed, even when one of you does not know the other's exact location, is something which has never been known to happen, therefore much of what we must do is engage in guesswork until we hit upon a method which works."  
  
Harry nodded, feeling a bit less nervous once he knew he would not actually be breaking into Lord Voldemort's mind that day.  
  
"Now, Harry," Dumbledore began, leaning forward in his chair and resting his arms on his desk. "At the end of your fourth year, you dueled with Lord Voldemort just after his return."  
  
Harry did not even bother to nod, resigning himself to the fact that Dumbledore, once again, was going to begin the lesson with a rehashing of things everyone already knew.  
  
"I remember you telling me what happened as your wands refused to duel with one another," Dumbledore continued. "Can you remember now?"  
  
"I couldn't forget, sir," Harry said quietly. "The wands connected, and it was like there were, I don't know, beads of light on the connection. Voldemort was trying to force them back at me, and I was trying to force them back at him. I don't know what they were, but when they got to his wand –”  
  
"Thank you, Harry," Dumbledore interrupted before Harry would have to describe Cedric Diggory and his parents coming out of Voldemort's wand and helping him escape. "What we are interested in today are those beads of light, that connection between the two of you. When you have practiced Legilimency on me, how have you forged the connection?"  
  
"Through your eyes," Harry answered automatically.  
  
"That's correct, Harry, and it is how Legilimency is traditionally performed," Dumbledore continued. "Our difficulty here lies in the fact that you will not have the ability to look directly into Lord Voldemort's eyes as you make the same attempt with him."  
  
"No," Harry said, wondering more than ever how they expected him to accomplish this.  
  
"What we must do is forge the connection in another way," the Headmaster said. "Now, as a beginning exercise, I am going to turn away from you and close my eyes. I wish for you to try and perform Legilimency on me."  
  
Harry tried, but he was unsuccessful. No matter what he did, he could not gain access to the Headmaster's thoughts when his back was turned, and he wondered again how he was going to do so with Voldemort over an even greater space.  
  
Dumbledore turned back to him. "Not to worry, Harry," he said. "I did not expect you to be able to do it that way immediately. Now, I would like you to remember, to focus on that beam of light, and imagine a similar beam between yourself and me."  
  
Harry closed his eyes tightly, forcing himself to remember that beam and the golden beads of light which had connected his wand with Lord Voldemort's nearly two years before.  
  
"Would you allow me to see, Harry?" Dumbledore asked quietly when Harry's features had relaxed sufficiently to tell him that his student was picturing the connection.  
  
Harry nodded slightly, his eyes still closed, and dropped his defenses in slight increments until he could feel the slight tickle that was Dumbledore's intrusion upon his thoughts.  
  
"Continue to concentrate," Dumbledore said, and Harry felt the tickle increase to a more forceful push as the Headmaster continued to probe his mind. As the pressure increased, Harry fought to continue envisioning the golden connection.  
  
Abruptly, the pressure ceased, and Dumbledore asked Harry to come back into the present. When he opened his eyes, Dumbledore was staring at him seriously. "That was very good, but tell me, why did you opt to tell your friends of our plans when I specifically asked you not to?"  
  
Harry bristled. He did not like having his thoughts invaded, and he resented the fact that the adults in his life were still trying to make his decisions for him. "They know everything already, Professor," he said, trying not to sound defensive. "Ginny knew something was going on, and I was going crazy trying to keep it from them. We can trust all of them."  
  
Dumbledore sighed. "I am aware of that, Harry," he said, "and I realize that I must remember that you and your friends are no longer children. It was wrong of me to ask you to bear this alone, but please understand that I had my reasons."  
  
"I understand, sir," Harry said respectfully, but he was not about to apologize.  
  
"With this being as it is, however, I believe that we will be able to use your friends in our endeavors."  
  
Harry's head snapped up. "Use them?" he asked disbelievingly. "Professor, I – "  
  
"Do not misunderstand me, Harry," Dumbledore interrupted, correctly guessing that Harry believed that he wanted to use his friends in a way which would endanger them. "I am not suggesting placing your friends in any danger. However, if a connection could be forged…" he trailed off, apparently deep in thought, and Harry waited several moments before interrupting.  
  
"A connection?" he asked.  
  
"Your loved ones are your greatest source of power, Harry," Dumbledore said. "That is the one thing about you that Voldemort will never be able to understand, never be able to conquer. If they are beside you in your attempts to breach his mind, you will be that much more powerful, that much more able to resist…"  
  
"Resist Voldemort breaking back into my mind," Harry finished for him.  
  
"That is correct," Dumbledore answered. "It is something to which I will give a great deal of thought before we begin our attempt. Now, however, I would like you to go back to that beam of light. I am going to turn my back once more, Harry, and I would like you to attempt to break into my mind once again. I will not be resisting you this first time. I would like to see what you can do without being able to see my eyes." With that, Dumbledore turned his back.  
  
Harry once again screwed his eyes shut, imagining the golden beam of light connecting himself and the Headmaster. Slowly, carefully, he pushed the beads of light toward Dumbledore, and when he saw the usual images of himself at various ages, he knew he had succeeded and he broke the connection.  
  
"That was excellent," Dumbledore said, looking at Harry proudly but without even the merest trace of a smile. "And now, I believe it is time for you to go. However, I would like to give you one word of advice, if I may."  
  
Harry looked up from repacking his bag, which had fallen over and spilled all over the floor. He gazed at the Headmaster questioningly.  
  
"I know you are busy, Harry, but what we are about to do will drain your energy and your magical reserves as nothing has ever done before. Get as much rest as you can, and do try to spend some time with your friends, especially Miss Weasley."  
  
"Yes, sir," Harry said even as he wondered exactly when he was supposed to do that between his classes, Kingsley's lessons, Tonks' physical training requirements, and the D.A. "Thank you, Professor," he said politely as he picked up his bag and walked toward the door.  
  
"No, thank you, Harry," Dumbledore said quietly after the door had closed. He settled back into his chair, his expression one of great concern. In all honesty, the Headmaster had hoped it would take his student longer to master the basics of distance Legilimency. Harry's success today had only confirmed that it would not be long before he was able to breach Lord Voldemort's mind. He knew that there was no choice and that this was part of Harry's destiny, but that did not stop him from wishing once more that he could take this burden off the shoulders of one so young.  
  


* * *

  
"Harry is going to do _what_?" Molly said in a low and dangerous voice. "You cannot be serious, Albus."  
  
"Alas, Molly, I am quite serious. I have been training with Harry for three weeks toward this very goal."  
  
"Three weeks? That's all?" Molly responded. "You've been working with him for only three weeks, and you want him to attempt to break into You-Know-Who's _mind_?" Her voice was incredulous, and her face had begun to turn red as she worked herself into a rage.  
  
"Harry's been training in Occlumency and Legilimency since this summer," Lupin pointed out, although his already-pale face had turned even whiter at the news. "He agreed to this, Headmaster?"  
  
"Indeed, without reserve," Dumbledore told him sadly. "He is willing and has already shown himself to be quite able to do the task."  
  
"Then we need to move as quickly as possible," Moody growled from his seat at the long table in Grimmauld Place. They were not holding an official Order meeting because Dumbledore wished this to be kept as quiet as possible, but Moody had been by to drop off his spare Invisibility Cloak and had happened upon the conversation between the Weasley parents, Dumbledore, and Remus Lupin.  
  
"This is insanity," Molly snapped. "He's sixteen years old, and he is not under any circumstances going to try to perform Legilimency on You-Know-Who. Don't you all realize how dangerous this is?"  
  
"It will be the most dangerous thing he has ever attempted," Dumbledore confirmed.  
  
"Can we be certain of his success?" Lupin asked quietly.  
  
"I am afraid not," Dumbledore answered.  
  
"So we're putting him through this without even knowing whether or not it will work?" Molly asked incredulously. "Forgive me, Albus, but I believe this is yet another time in which you are placing Harry directly in harm's way, and I simply will not stand for it."  
  
"If Harry has already agreed to it," Lupin said, "he must realize the importance of the information he could bring us. It is information we need to put a stop to this war and if Harry believes himself to be the only one who can do it, he will stop at nothing. He is going to do it with or without our help now, Molly. You know that."  
  
Molly Weasley seemed to deflate right in front of everyone's eyes, and Arthur held her hand for support as she sank back into her chair. "Is there no one else, Albus?" he asked as he squeezed his wife's hand. "What of Severus?"  
  
"Severus is unable to report much to us anymore, and his situation has been compromised. For his own safety, he has been required to distance himself from the Order for a time. I expect a report from him soon, but I do not hold any confidence that it will contain enough information for us to move on our goals."  
  
Moody and the Weasley parents nodded. Severus Snape's job was the most dangerous one in the Order, or it had been until this very moment.  
  
"I believe Harry to be the only person who can provide us with what we need to find Voldemort and his Death Eaters," Dumbledore said bluntly. "And until we do so, he will continue to act with impunity. The death toll is far too high already, and I believe he has set his sights on a higher goal now. We must stop him. I am afraid we have no choice."  
  
Molly nodded as she furiously blinked back tears, and Lupin also seemed to be struggling to control his emotions as he digested the news. They had all known that Harry would be forced to play a potentially deadly role in this war, but everyone had been hoping that it would at least wait until he was out of school.  
  
"I will need your help, however," Dumbledore continued, and everyone looked at him seriously as he began to describe the plan which would take place only three days in the future. When he was finished, Molly had stopped crying, and her face as well as those of Lupin and Arthur were set in much the same expression of stoicism as Ginny's had been the night she found out. They had all vowed to help and to stand behind Harry every step of the way, and they would perform this duty with every ounce of strength they could muster.  
  


* * *

  
Ginny, Harry, Ron and Hermione met in Professor McGonagall's office early one Saturday morning near the end of January. No one spoke, not even McGonagall, as they waited for word that it was safe to Floo to Grimmauld Place. Today was to be Harry's first attempt to breach Lord Voldemort's defenses, and Dumbledore had asked each of them to accompany Harry to London, where he would make the attempt. The wards around the old Black family home would ensure that they were not detected.  
  
Ginny kept squeezing Harry's hand nervously as Ron and Hermione looked anxiously at one another, and Professor McGonagall straightened papers on her desk, unusually restless. Everyone was on edge as they thought about the danger in what Harry was about to attempt.  
  
Hermione jumped slightly as the fire burned green in the grate and Remus Lupin's head appeared. "We're ready now," he said simply. "Everything has been secured." He glanced up at Harry before his head disappeared, and Ginny's hold on Harry's hand became almost painful.  
  
One by one, Ron, Hermione, Ginny and Harry took glittering handfuls of Floo powder from the pot on the mantle, and they were transported to Grimmauld Place, followed closely by McGonagall.  
  
As soon as Harry came out of the grate in the large kitchen, Remus Lupin stepped forward and seized his shoulder. "Harry," he said, looking at his young charge seriously, "you are not required to do this. If you decide you do not want to at any point, you no longer have to. Are you sure about this?"  
  
"I'm sure, Moony," Harry answered, his voice somber and uncannily adult.  
  
"Shall we begin?" Dumbledore addressed the room at large. "I believe the parlor might be the best location, so if you would all follow me." With that, he turned and swept out of the kitchen with hardly a glance at any of them.  
  
Mrs. Weasley stopped Harry and gave him one of her fiercest hugs before he followed the others into the parlor. "You're so brave, Harry," she said. "We're so proud of you." She had decided after she had heard Harry tell Lupin he did not want to back out that she was not going to suggest it to him. Harry needed confidence for this endeavor if he was going to remain safe, and if too many people offered him the opportunity to quit, she was afraid he would begin to question his own abilities.  
  
Harry nodded stiffly at Mrs. Weasley and he barely felt it when Mr. Weasley clapped him encouragingly on the shoulders, nor did he see the worried look the two parents exchanged behind his back.  
  
When they entered the drawing room, Harry found to his surprise that all the furniture had been moved back and only a single chair remained in the middle.  
  
"Please be seated, Harry," Dumbledore said gravely, indicating the chair. "The rest of you, I want you to surround Harry. Each of you must be in some kind of physical contact with him."  
  
Harry sat down and the others arranged themselves around him, lightly touching his shoulders, arms, and legs. Ginny took his right hand, holding it tightly.  
  
"It is imperative that no matter what happens, none of you break contact with Mr. Potter," McGonagall said, resting her hand lightly on his left shoulder. "It is also important that he has no distractions." She looked severely at Ginny, Ron and Hermione, who gazed unflinchingly back at her and nodded.  
  
"Thank you, Minerva," Dumbledore said, and everyone noticed that he was not making contact with Harry like the rest of them were. "Are you ready to begin, Harry?"  
  
Harry nodded and closed his eyes tightly. After a moment, he began to shake and then to sweat as he concentrated. Mrs. Weasley looked at him anxiously, but did not move or make a sound.  
  
"Concentrate, Harry," Dumbledore said softly. "Focus your energy on the beads of light; force them to go where you need them to go."  
  
Harry could see the beam of light stretching out into nothingness, and he pushed the beads with all of his strength, somehow knowing that he had succeeded in forging the connection, that Lord Voldemort was indeed on the other end of the line.  
  
For several minutes, Harry followed the beads of light, pushing them relentlessly along the long golden thread. He could hear Professor Dumbledore's voice calling to him from somewhere far away, and it encouraged him.  
  
Harry began to lose his strength as he continued to search, but as he began to lose his grip, he was suddenly able to feel tingles of energy coming from the hands on his shoulders, arms and legs, and with a slight squeeze of Ginny's hand, Harry pushed forward, remembering even in his trance why he was doing this.  
  
Suddenly, the thread broke, and Harry was pushed back as if from a strong, repellant magnetic field. His scar exploded in pain, and everyone in the parlor looked panicked as his body jerked and he cried out, much as he had back in the summer when Voldemort and Malfoy had jointly broken into his mind.  
  
The others held onto Harry as instructed, and did not move. Dumbledore, however, crossed the space between himself and his student quickly and stooped to look into his face.  
  
"Harry!" he said urgently. "Wake up, Harry!"  
  
When Harry's eyes remained closed, Dumbledore took his shoulders and shook them slightly. "Harry!" he called, and the whole room seemed to breathe a sigh of relief when Harry's large green eyes fluttered open, and he turned his head and slowly focused on Ginny's face.


	34. Time Out to be a Teen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Malfoy finally gets caught...though he won't remember it happening, and Harry struggles to remain in control after several more unsuccessful attempts to breach Voldemort's mind.

Harry was more completely exhausted than he had ever been in his life. Added to his usual workload, which was considerable in and of itself, were twice-weekly attempts to breach Voldemort's defenses. He and the others used the Floo Network to travel to Grimmauld Place on Tuesday evenings and Saturday mornings, but so far, his attempts had always ended the same as they had the first time, with Harry being pushed back by some invisible barrier.  
  
Harry and the other Gryffindor D.A. members were heading back from their usual meeting at about nine Wednesday night when they saw the notice for the customary February Hogsmeade visit posted on one of the school notice boards.  
  
"What do you reckon, Harry?" Ginny asked as they continued down the corridor walking a few feet behind the other D.A. members, who were now happily making plans for the day away from school. "Do you want to go, or do you want to stay here and rest?"  
  
"I think we're supposed to go to London that morning," Hermione interjected quietly after checking to make sure that no one was listening.  
  
"We always go early enough that we could still make it to Hogsmeade after," Ron noted. He, of course, always took note of the hour at which they left the school, being denied his usual Saturday morning lie-ins. To his credit, he had never once complained, but that did not mean that he hadn't noticed.  
  
"Yeah," Harry agreed, although he wasn't actually sure whether or not he wanted to go into Hogsmeade with the rest of the students. Since he had begun attempting to break into Voldemort's mind, he had found himself becoming inexplicably more negative towards things he had always enjoyed, and going to Hogsmeade was no exception. He and his friends supposed that it was due to exhaustion that his outlook had darkened.  
  
Lately, Ginny had been the only person who could snap him out of one of these moods, and noticing his reticence, she said, "I'd like to go, Harry. I think it would do you some good, too, but it's up to you." She squeezed his hand lightly, and he once again felt as though he had been touched by a cool, refreshing breeze.  
  
"I think you're right, Ginny," he said, suddenly decisive. "It's high time we had a bit of fun."  
  
Hermione and Ron grinned at one another. They both loved that Ginny was able to make Harry see past the hardships in his life, and Hermione secretly wished that Ron would look at her in the same adoring manner as Harry looked at Ginny. She couldn't put her finger on a reason for it, but since Christmas, they had somehow seemed closer than they'd ever been.  
  
Hermione sighed. Ron was caring and affectionate in his own way, but he had not changed from his old habit of being rather thick when it came to women. She smiled fondly at him as this thought ran through her head. She had known what she was in for when they had started dating, and she didn't think she would have changed him even if she could have.  
  
The foursome got to the portrait hole a bit behind the others and quickly gave the Fat Lady the password. All of them, especially Ginny, had loads of homework to do and they began work, not speaking much as their quills scratched busily into the night. By the time he went up to his own dormitory and lay down in his four-poster, Harry had no thoughts in his head but that he wanted nothing more than a good night's sleep, for tomorrow was to be another full day.  
  


* * *

  
Draco Malfoy used his invisibility cloak to follow the two Weasleys, Potter and Granger back to Gryffindor tower every Wednesday night after their stupid Defense meetings, even though it meant that he had to stay in his practice Quidditch robes and find a way to get up to the castle away from his teammates and under his invisibility cloak before the D.A. meeting was over. Usually, his quarry did not talk about anything of interest, but tonight they had broken away from the group to discuss the upcoming Hogsmeade weekend, and Draco had heard Ron mention going to London.  
  
His interest piqued, he had gotten as close as he possibly could to them without revealing himself, but he had heard nothing more of interest besides the fact that Potter had been completely bowled over by his blood-traitor girlfriend. Draco had been hoping that Potter would not go into Hogsmeade, as it would mean another tedious day of following him and his stupid friends around. As soon as Ginny had said she thought he should go, however, he had agreed just like the weakling he was, and the young Death Eater was condemned to spend another day vanishing his footprints from the snow and watching the pathetic Gryffindors shop and make eyes at one another. He found the whole thing to be rather disgusting.  
  
Draco walked slowly down the marble staircase and towards the dungeons, taking care to remain completely under his cloak lest he be seen. After descending the stone staircase into the damp underbelly of the castle, Draco proceeded more quickly down the corridor and glanced around carefully before opening the entrance to the communication chamber in which he had been contacting Lord Voldemort all year.  
  
"My Lord?" Draco asked in what he hoped was a suitably humble voice.  
  
"Ah, young Mr. Malfoy," hissed the evil voice. "I trust you have something to report?"  
  
"I do," Draco answered, his knees already beginning to ache from the cold, rough stone of the floor. "Potter and his friends have been going to London on Saturday mornings."  
  
"London?" the Dark Lord asked, and Draco was pleased to hear a note of interest in his voice. "And have you found out why they have been going to London?" he asked, his voice growing dangerous.  
  
"Not yet, My Lord," Draco answered. "They didn't say anything else tonight, but I will find out."  
  
"See that you do, young Malfoy," Voldemort hissed, sounding more snake-like than ever. "This interests me greatly. You will find out where they go and why, immediately."  
  
"I will," Draco said, his voice betraying his relief that Voldemort did not seem displeased with his efforts. In fact, he had seemed to gain some favor in the Dark Lord's eyes after his success with the giant, who had been caught by some of the Death Eaters near his clearing in the forest the day after the attack and was now being trained for use as a member of Voldemort's army.  
  
"I will expect a new report soon, young Malfoy," Voldemort said, and the menace in his voice was unmistakable. A moment later, the chamber was silent, and Draco Malfoy knew he was alone once again.  
  


* * *

  
" _Expelliarmus_!" Harry cried after wandlessly casting a leg-locker curse at his teacher. Kingsley Shacklebolt's wand flew soundlessly out of his hand and Harry caught it neatly and stowed it in his pocket. Harry had improved immensely over the past few weeks. As his ability to use wandless magic had increased, so had his dueling skill. He won nearly half of the practice duels with the Auror now.  
  
"That was excellent, Harry," Shacklebolt said after Harry had lifted the leg-locker curse and returned his wand. "You have been practicing nightly, I assume?"  
  
"Yes," Harry said. He was covered in sweat and he knew he would be sore in the morning, but his breathing was not labored in the slightest. He and his friends were in better shape than they had ever been, mostly due to the twice-daily runs and the practice duels every evening, and it was showing in their progress. Harry, Ginny, Ron, Hermione and the other sixth and seventh years were dueling faster and harder than ever before.  
  
Kingsley arched his eyebrows at his student, who had taken a seat at the table opposite him. "Very well, then," he said seriously. "I believe that with the training you have been receiving in Defense Against the Dark Arts and your progression in wandless magic, we are ready to move to the next step."  
  
"The next step, sir?" Harry inquired.  
  
"You give the enemy too much notice of what you are going to do," Kingsley said.  
  
Harry stared at him. "I don't see how I can go faster."  
  
"You can't," Kingsley replied. "Your reflexes are good, and with a little more honing you will be as fast as any Auror I've trained. No, what you need to learn now is how to perform soundless magic so your enemy will not be aware of your spell until it hits him. This, combined with more training in wandless magic, will make you a formidable opponent indeed."  
  
Harry could not believe he had never considered this before, and as he packed up his bag and prepared to go to his Defense Against the Dark Arts class, he once again felt slightly overwhelmed. He had never practiced soundless magic before, and he felt as though he were barely hanging onto the skills he had already learned. Not for the first or the last time, he wondered whether or not he would be able to master all that had been required of him.  
  
"Harry!" Ron called as they approached Tonks's classroom. "How was your lesson with Kingsley, mate?"  
  
"Fine," Harry answered shortly. He was exhausted and his mood had only grown fouler as he had walked through the corridors full of chattering students.  
  
"Are you all right, Harry?" Hermione asked perceptively as she joined them, her overflowing book bag slung over her shoulder and weighting her right side down slightly.  
  
"I'm fine," Harry repeated. "Only now Kingsley wants me to learn how to perform magic without saying any of the spells."  
  
"Soundless magic?" Hermione replied, sounding impressed. "That's above N.E.W.T.-level, you know."  
  
"So's wandless magic, Hermione, and Harry's done that," Ron replied, looking at his friend with a slightly awestruck expression on his face. They had only recently found out about Harry's ability to do magic without a wand. Harry hadn't told them about it before, feeling uncomfortable with the fact that he was practicing magic that was leaps and bounds above that which his friends were learning.  
  
"That's different, Ron," Hermione said. "Wandless magic is an innate ability. Anyone can do soundless magic if they learn the skill. Will you teach us, Harry?"  
  
"I don't even know how yet, Hermione," Harry answered irritably as they chose seats along the sides of the large classroom and waited for their instruction to begin.  
  
"Lay off it for now, Hermione," Ron whispered, catching the look on Harry's face. It was apparent that he was in one of his moods again, and Ron and Hermione had learned that it was best to leave him alone until Ginny could deal with him.  
  
Just then, Tonks came into the room from her office, a cheerful smile on her face, her black hair tied back in a tight bun much like the one Professor McGonagall usually wore. She had not revealed her status as a metamorphmagus to any of the other students, and Ron, Harry and Hermione had grown quite used to her normal appearance.  
  
"Right, everyone here?" she said, scanning the room as she always did. "Good. Good afternoon, you lot. Are you ready to work?"  
  
The class nodded their assent and stowed their belongings safely under the long tables. Everyone liked Professor Tonks's classes, as they were action-packed and involved very little bookwork.  
  
"I see that we have a few students opting to miss the mandatory daily runs," Tonks said, looking at a long piece of parchment critically. "Draco Malfoy?" she called. Draco gazed at her sullenly. "Daily workouts are a requirement for this class, Mr. Malfoy," Tonks said severely, and Hermione snickered behind her hands. They had learned early on that Tonks could be as severe as McGonagall if she felt it necessary, and it always tickled Hermione when she did so.  
  
"I shall be assigning you detention, let's see…" Tonks continued, looking at another piece of parchment on her desk, "on Monday through Thursday of next week. In addition to your normal required runs, Mr. Malfoy, you will spend four three-hour periods with me doing extra physical training to make up for your recent absences." Draco looked supremely disdainful, but Tonks did not seem concerned as she continued, "I believe the north tower stairwell would be a most appropriate place for this detention. Joining Mr. Malfoy will be…" she checked her list. "Well, I see that I was mistaken. Mr. Malfoy seems to be the only member of this class who has taken it upon himself not to perform as required. I will see you on Monday," she finished, fixing Malfoy with a stern stare.  
  
"Now that has been taken care of," she said, looking back up at the rest of her class. "We shall continue where we left off last lesson. Please pair with your assigned partners."  
  
As the class paired off, Tonks came up to Harry. "Ready to assist again, Harry?" she asked cheerfully.  
  
"Sure," said Harry, shrugging. He had gotten so far ahead of the rest of the class that it had become unfair to pair him with any other student, so Tonks had made him her unofficial assistant, calling on him to help with demonstrations and to assist his classmates as they practiced.  
  
Tonks easily caught the disgruntled look on his face. "What's eating you, kid?" she asked quietly.  
  
"Nothing," Harry answered, and he was spared further questioning by an increased amount of confusion in the room as his classmates began practicing. After Christmas, Tonks had begun teaching them offensive and defensive uses of some of the charms they had learned in their first five years of school, and they were now practicing combinations of spell-casting and physical moves.  
  
Tonks looked at Harry critically, but there was not time for a talk at that moment. "Right," she said. "Harry, go around the class and make corrections. There's a lot of sloppy technique out there."  
  
Harry nodded and began his rounds, much as he did during the D.A. meetings. Tonks was right, there was quite a bit of sloppy technique going on as his classmates forgot what they had learned about maneuvering in the excitement of finally being able to cast spells at their opponents. The double period went by quickly as he stopped duel after duel, reminding the other students of their dodging maneuvers and demonstrating the correct technique.  
  
Hermione seemed to be having more trouble than many of them, and she had confessed to Harry and Ron just after Christmas that this was the first time in her life she had been required to perform large amounts of physical activity. Although her coordination was a bit off, she learned quickly and the physical exercise requirements had toned her body and made her, in Ron's opinion, even more beautiful. She listened intently as Harry described the roll-and-attack combination they had learned the week before.  
  
"My body just won't do that," she said in frustration after bruising her shoulder in another attempt.  
  
"It will, Hermione," Harry insisted none-too-kindly. "You only have to pull your shoulder down like I showed you before you drop into your roll. You’re too afraid of hitting the ground to let your body relax properly."  
  
"I'm trying, Harry," Hermione responded, her feelings hurt.  
  
"Well, you'll need to try harder, won't you?" Harry said meanly.  
  
"Harry," Ron began, his voice harder than usual. "You don't have to talk to her like that."  
  
"Ron," Harry spat, turning on his friend, "if Hermione tries that move in any kind of battle, she'll be killed. Is that what you want?"  
  
Ron and Hermione stared at Harry for a moment before glancing at each other, turning, and walking to the other side of the room where Tonks was critiquing some other students. Harry watched them go with the now-familiar bubble of rage and irritation fighting its way into his throat. Couldn't they see that he was only trying to make them stronger and to prepare them for what they all knew was in the not-so-distant future?  
  
Harry tried to shake off the feeling that he had done something wrong as he continued around the room for the rest of the period, demonstrating the correct technique time after time.  
  
Ron and Hermione left the room as quickly as they could when the bell sounded, and Harry was on his own as he picked up his own things and prepared to go to the Great Hall for dinner.  
  
"Could I have a word, Harry?" Tonks asked just as he reached the door.  
  
Harry sighed and turned around. "Sure," he said, trying not to sound as disgruntled as he was feeling.  
  
"What's going on with you?" Tonks asked directly as Harry came back in and sat down. "I've never seen you in such a bad mood. Is something the matter?"  
  
"No," Harry said. "Everything's brilliant." He couldn't keep the sarcasm out of his voice, and his mood grew even blacker as Tonks frowned at him.  
  
"Look, kid," she said without preamble, "Your friends are trying their hardest. You know that. It's your job to help them, not cut them down."  
  
"My job, is it?" Harry said bitterly, and all that he had been thinking over the past weeks came spilling out all of a sudden, as if a dam had broken. "Everything's my job, isn't it? It's my job to teach everyone else how to survive when I'm not even sure how I'm going to survive myself. It's my job to learn magic more advanced than even the Aurors know, and it's my job to break into bloody sodding Voldemort's head so I can tell the Order what he's planning. Every bloody thing is my job and I'm tired of it. I didn't ask for this!"  
  
Tonks gaped at him. "You're doing _what_?" she whispered.  
  
"Oh, is that another one of Dumbledore's secrets?" Harry demanded, even though he realized immediately that Tonks had never been told about his Legilimency attempts on Voldemort. "Yeah, suppose no one told you that twice a week I have to –”  
  
"Shhh!" Tonks interrupted suddenly, glancing suspiciously toward the back of the room. She got up from the table and rushed down the center aisle, grabbing at the air in front of the door. To Harry's great surprise, he heard a muffled yell and a moment later saw the pale face of Draco Malfoy as his invisibility cloak slipped off.  
  
"Malfoy," Harry growled, raising his wand.  
  
"Harry, stop!" Tonks cried before he could do anything. "Don't start a fight!"  
  
"Why not?" Harry asked, his eyes never leaving the blonde Slytherin.  
  
"What are you doing, eavesdropping on personal conversations?" Tonks gave Malfoy's shoulder a shake when he didn't answer. "Twenty-five points from Slytherin!"  
  
Harry gaped at her. Twenty-five points? That was _all_?  
  
"I'll be confiscating this as well," Tonks said, snatching the invisibility cloak, and Harry thought he detected a flash of outright fear on Malfoy's face, but he didn't say anything. "And as for what you heard…" Tonks broke off and looked around the room, still holding Malfoy tightly by the shoulder. " _Obliviate_!" she said, pointing her wand at him.  
  
Tonks released her hold on his shoulder and backed away from him. After a moment had passed and Malfoy's expression became a bit clearer, she said in her normal tone, "Did you forget something, Mr. Malfoy?"  
  
Malfoy looked around in confusion. "No," he said in a slightly bemused voice.  
  
"Then I would suggest you leave my classroom immediately," Tonks cautioned him. "I will see you on Monday at seven for your first detention."  
  
"Monday at seven," Draco echoed, and he turned and left, seeming more than a bit disoriented as he opened the heavy door and went out into the corridor.  
  
Tonks turned back to Harry, who was staring at her incredulously. "Did you just erase Malfoy's memory?" he asked.  
  
"Just the last half hour or so of it," Tonks replied matter-of-factly.  
  
"But Tonks, he's a student," Harry said, noticing as he did that he sounded a bit like Hermione. "Won't you get into trouble?"  
  
"Harry, what he just witnessed was a matter of Order security," Tonks said. "What I did was necessary, and if anyone were to find out about it, the reasons I performed the charm would be quite understood."  
  
Harry couldn't believe it. He was used to a playful, clumsy and girlish Tonks or an occasionally strict Professor Tonks, but the woman who stood before him was every inch an Auror.  
  
"Kiddo," Tonks continued, and Harry was still too astounded to notice that she had used Sirius's nickname for him, "Were you serious when you said that you were attempting to break into Voldemort's mind?"  
  
Harry snapped back into the present and nodded at her.  
  
"Okay," she said, trying to hide her distress at this news. "I can understand why you're feeling overwhelmed and tired, then, but in future please try not to take it out on your friends. We're here for you, Harry, any time you need us. Always remember that."  
  
Harry nodded again, still speechless.  
  
"Right, go and have your dinner," Tonks told him, waving him toward the door and turning back toward her desk, Malfoy's invisibility cloak held tightly in one of her hands. Harry was so distracted by all that had happened that he didn't notice how pale she had become, or the fact that her hands shook as she sat down at her desk and took out a clean sheet of parchment and a quill. She briefly considered sending the Order's signal to Grimmauld Place, but in her current state, she was afraid she would alarm everyone.  
  


> _Remus_ , she wrote, trying to figure out exactly how to phrase what she was thinking.
> 
> _I'm concerned that everything is becoming a bit much for Harry, and I do mean everything. Please contact me as soon as possible._
> 
> _Tonks  
> _

  
As she folded and magically sealed the bit of parchment, stowing it in her pocket until she could get up to the owlery and send it with one of the school's barn owls, Tonks wondered how much Harry could be expected to take before he lost sight of himself completely.  
  


* * *

  
After another unsuccessful attempt to breach Voldemort's mental defenses, Harry was left as tired and as pale as he usually was. He allowed Mrs. Weasley to fuss over him for a few moments as the others prepared to return to Professor McGonagall's office at Hogwarts, and when he took his own handful of Floo Powder and stepped into the grate, it was with a very tired and slightly hoarse voice that he said, "Hogwarts!" and spun away out of sight.  
  
As Harry stepped out of the grate in McGonagall's office, Ron, Hermione and Ginny were waiting for him, brushing the ash off their cloaks.  
  
"Are you all right, Harry?" Hermione asked anxiously as Ginny approached him and wrapped him in a tight hug.  
  
"I'm okay," Harry said wearily, leaning into Ginny's hug as though she were the only thing keeping him standing. The truth was, he felt as though he had been in half a dozen duels in the space of just a half an hour and all he wanted to do was sleep.  
  
"You still up for Hogsmeade, mate?" Ron asked. By now, they had all grown used to Harry's exhaustion after his Legilimency attempts and they knew the best way to deal with it was just to give him some time and space, and not to treat him as if anything was wrong.  
  
"Yes, he is," Ginny answered for him, grabbing Harry's hand and giving it a quick squeeze before he could protest. "He just needs some time to rest first. What would you three think about resting for a bit before we go?"  
  
Ron glanced at Hermione, and Harry could tell that he was reluctant to wait even for a little while. Ron loved Hogsmeade, mainly for Honeyduke’s sweet shop and the Three Broomsticks pub, which boasted fresh butterbeer and a curvy barmaid called Rosemerta. Harry also knew that Ron was itching to have some time alone with Hermione, but he had been waiting for an opportunity to talk to all of them about what had happened with Tonks and Malfoy the previous day, so he said, "I wouldn't mind resting a bit, if that's okay. Can we just go to the common room for a while before we leave?"  
  
"Of course, Harry," Hermione said, standing on Ron's foot. "It should be pretty empty in there on a Saturday morning."  
  
She was right. Besides a couple of second years playing a game of wizard's chess in the far corner, the common room was deserted. Harry supposed that everyone had either gone on to Hogsmeade or was in the library or on the grounds.  
  
After they had settled in their usual spots and checked to make sure no one was listening, Harry filled them all in on what had happened with Malfoy in Defense Against the Dark Arts.  
  
"Tonks obliviated him?" Hermione asked, looking as though she couldn't decide whether to be horrified, amused, or deeply impressed.  
  
"Yes," Harry said. "She said it was a matter of Order security and I reckon she was right. What was Malfoy doing, anyway, hiding under an invisibility cloak and listening in on us?"  
  
"Likely he wanted to see what he could find out to tell his father," Ron suggested.  
  
"Or Voldemort," Harry said.  
  
"Harry, we've been through this. You really think Malfoy is a Death Eater?" Hermione asked exasperatedly.  
  
"Yes, I do," Harry said, and at that very moment he was struck with a thought. "Malfoy has an invisibility cloak," he said, thinking hard.  
  
"Of course he does, Harry, if Tonks took one away from him," Ginny said.  
  
"What if Malfoy's the one who gave Grawp that club?" Harry asked.  
  
"How would Malfoy even know about Grawp?" Hermione asked. "Dumbledore didn't even know about him."  
  
"What if he's been following us all year?" Harry responded.  
  
"When would he have time?" Ron pointed out. "He's got a full load of classes just like all of us."  
  
"But you told me what happened in Tonks's class," Ginny interjected. "He hasn't been doing his running. I wonder why?"  
  
"If he wanted to follow Harry, he'd have been doing his physical training," Hermione pointed out. "We all go every morning and evening."  
  
"I think he has been going," Harry said flatly. "I just think Tonks can't count him because she can't see him."  
  
"Don't you think you're getting a little…well, a little paranoid, Harry?" Hermione asked tentatively. "There's no way Malfoy's been following you all year. It's just not possible."  
  
"And why isn't it possible, Hermione?" Ginny broke in aggressively. "We know he has an invisibility cloak. Merlin knows I've heard enough about you three's exploits under Harry's cloak to believe that they make a lot of things possible."  
  
"Malfoy's a Death Eater and he's following me and reporting to Voldemort," Harry repeated with even more conviction. "And I bet he's the one who got Grawp to attack Hagrid."  
  
"Harry," Hermione said, ignoring a warning look from Ron, "it just doesn't make much sense, that's all I'm saying."  
  
"It makes as much sense as anything any of the rest of us has come up with," Ginny said staunchly. "Why don't you two go on ahead?" she continued. "Harry and I will catch up with you for lunch at the Three Broomsticks, okay?"  
  
When Hermione looked like she was about to continue the argument about Malfoy, Ron gave her a significant glance and said, "Come on, Hermione, I want to get to Honeyduke’s before they run out of sugar quills." With one final glance back at Harry and Ginny, Ron and Hermione climbed through the portrait hole and left for Hogsmeade.  
  
After they were gone, Ginny reached over and gently pulled Harry down so that he was lying on the sofa, his head in her lap. For a few moments neither of them spoke. They just sat quietly, Ginny running her hands through Harry's hair as he reclined with his eyes closed and the ghost of a smile on his face.  
  
Ginny finally broke the silence. "I think you're right about Malfoy," she said quietly. "Have you told Dumbledore?"  
  
"Not yet," Harry said, and it felt good to be talking with someone who was not challenging every word he said. "You think I should?"  
  
"Yes," Ginny said simply. "I think you should."  
  
They sat in silence for a few more moments, Harry enjoying the rare sensation of resting and of being cared for. He had never had anyone in his life like Ginevra Weasley, someone who put him first, no matter what. He sat up slowly, warmth spreading through his body, and without a thought of who might be watching, he pulled her to him and kissed her.  
  
Ginny kissed him back, but after only a short time, she pulled away, glancing around the common room. "What do you say we get out of here and go on to Hogsmeade, Harry?" she whispered, her breath tickling his ear.  
  
"Sure," he said. "Let's go."  
  
They got up and put their cloaks on quickly, ignoring the giggles of the chess-playing second-years as they left the common room and headed toward Hogsmeade, arriving two full hours before they were to meet Ron and Hermione for lunch at the Three Broomsticks.  
  
"Where do you want to go first?" Harry asked as they walked with their arms wrapped securely around each other's waists.  
  
"We've been everywhere a million times," Ginny said, looking up and down the busy street. "Why don't we head up to the Shrieking Shack?" she suggested, grinning at him with a gleam in her eye.  
  
Harry couldn't help but grin back. It was the first time since Fred's death that he'd seen her in such a playful mood. "Sounds good," he said, and they headed up past the stile and around to the back entrance of the ramshackle old house.  
  
" _Secret Unsecured_ ," Harry said, tapping his wand to the rickety gate. He heard the click of the locks, and he and Ginny ran up to the house, laughing.  
  
" _Secret Secured_ ," Harry said as soon as they had gone into the back door of the house. As he heard the locks click behind them, he turned to Ginny, who wasted no time in pulling him into a hard and passionate kiss.  
  
"Don't you want to go someplace more, erm…" Harry began, blushing furiously in spite of himself.  
  
"More private?" Ginny supplied helpfully.  
  
"Er, yeah," Harry said.  
  
"Lead the way, Mister Potter," she said cheekily.  
  
Harry complied.  
  


* * *

  
Draco Malfoy couldn't find his invisibility cloak, and he was panicking more than slightly as his roommates and fellow Slytherins prepared for the day at Hogsmeade. He had to find that cloak; without it, how was he supposed to trail Potter? Last time they had been given a Hogsmeade weekend, Potter had told his friends that he was the subject of a prophecy. Draco couldn't afford to miss another revelation of that magnitude.  
  
After twenty more minutes of increasingly frantic searching, he gave up, knowing that if he was going to have any chance whatsoever of following Potter, he would have to leave soon. _I will simply have to be more careful_ , he reasoned, trying to quell the growing panic settling into the very pit of his stomach. He resolved to do his best to follow them without being seen.  
  
Draco walked alone to Hogsmeade, although Pansy Parkinson, who had still not given up on the idea of dating the Malfoy heir, kept trying to wave him over. Crabbe and Goyle, who had been excluded from most of Draco's activities over the year, had already gone ahead.  
  
"No doubt they're already stuffing their faces at Honeyduke’s," Draco muttered with disdain. He would not have admitted it to anyone but himself, but he would have preferred their company to no company at all.  
  
"Stop thinking like that, Malfoy," he grumbled, kicking a small rock out of his path. "You have a job to do, and having those two goons hanging around wouldn't help matters."  
  
"Talking to yourself, Malfoy?" Dean Thomas jeered as he, Neville, and Seamus passed him on the road.  
  
"Sod off, Mudblood" Draco responded fiercely, pulling out his wand. He was not in the mood for this today.  
  
"Oooooh, we're really scared," Dean said tauntingly, ignoring the reference to his Muggle parentage, though all three Gryffindors had also drawn their wands.  
  
"I'd put those away if I were you," the pompous voice of Ernie MacMillan broke in.  
  
"What's it to you?" Seamus asked, continuing to point his wand at Malfoy.  
  
"I am a prefect," Ernie reminded them, sticking out his chest in a way that would have reminded Harry forcibly of Percy Weasley. "As are you, Draco. I would advise you all to watch yourselves unless you would like a detention."  
  
Malfoy did not waver, but Dean, Neville and Seamus reluctantly stowed their wands and continued down the road, talking angrily to one another.  
  
"What's gotten into you, Malfoy?" Ernie asked after the others had gone. "I would hope I need not remind you of your duties as a prefect. The professors have entrusted us to –”  
  
"I am more than aware of my duties, MacMillan," Draco answered in what he hoped was a menacing voice. "So I'll tell you what I told those pathetic Gryffindors: _sod off_."  
  
Ernie looked properly horrified at Draco's tone but chose not to pursue it, perhaps because the ill-tempered Slytherin's wand was now trained upon him. Shrugging slightly and making a mental note to keep an eye on Malfoy, he continued down the road, catching up with some of his Hufflepuff friends who had gone ahead of him.  
  
Malfoy refrained from muttering to himself the rest of the way to Hogsmeade. He had lost his cool and he knew it, and as he began to search the village for Potter and his friends, he was starting to wonder whether he was losing his own sanity. No sooner had this thought crossed his mind than his Malfoy pride slipped firmly back into place. Of course he was not losing his mind, and the fact that he had separated himself from the rest of the students only emphasized the fact that his station was now so much greater than anyone else's at Hogwarts.  
  
 _I serve Lord Voldemort_ , Draco reminded himself as he looked into each of the shops. _When the new regime is in place, I will be honored above all of these pathetic do-gooders_.  
  
After an hour of looking into all the usual haunts of the Hogwarts students, Draco was forced to consider the possibility that Potter and his girlfriend had not come to Hogsmeade at all. He had seen Ron Weasley and the know-it-all Mudblood Granger in Madam Puddifoot's, but they had not been discussing anything of interest to him. Just as he was about to head back up to the castle, Draco caught sight of his quarry just coming into the village.  
  
Taking care to track them without making himself seen, Draco followed as they walked up the long main street, and he continued behind them as they took what he recognized as the trail to the back entrance of the Shrieking Shack. He made a face of disgust as they ran to the door, hand in hand, laughing like idiots, and he took a moment to ponder his next move. Without his invisibility cloak, he knew he would have to be more careful than he had before. While they were at the school or in the village, it would be easy enough to pretend his presence was mere coincidence, but if he got caught in the Shrieking Shack Potter would know he was up to something, and being detected was something he had to avoid at all costs.  
  
Draco weighed the possibility of getting caught against Lord Voldemort's anger if Potter and Weasley were discussing the reasons for their mysterious trips into London and he missed it. A few moments later, he decided the greater risk was of missing the information, and he carefully tapped the rusty old gate and whispered, " _Secret Unsecured_."  
  
It seemed that the click of the lock on the gate and the back door was louder than usual. Draco froze, feeling very exposed without his cloak. It was not that he was afraid of Harry Potter in particular, but that he was afraid of Voldemort's reaction if his mission was discovered. After a minute had passed and no one had appeared to investigate the noise, Draco proceeded quickly through the back garden and to the door, which he eased open as quietly as possible.  
  
He did not relock the door owing to the fact that he needed to be able to leave quickly if he thought he was about to be discovered. He proceeded cautiously through the front of the house and then up the creaking staircase, taking each step as quietly as possible.  
  
When he reached the landing, he saw the flickering light from a fire in a grate, and he put his back against the wall and slowly inched towards the open door to listen. He had only gotten about halfway to the open door, however, when he stopped and his face contorted with revulsion. Potter and Weasley were not discussing anything of import. In fact, they were not discussing anything at all. The sounds coming from that room were of an entirely different nature.  
  
Feeling as though he had been branded with a hot iron, Draco hurried as quickly as he could down the stairs and out the back door, where he stopped and leaned against the house, breathing heavily, disgust rushing through every part of him. When he had regained his breath sufficiently, he walked out of the back garden, turned to the gate and said, " _Secret Secured_." As he walked away from the Shack, he found himself to be extremely glad that no one would ever know he had been there.  
  


* * *

  
"Harry, the Snitch is right below you!" Ron called from the goalposts at their final Quidditch practice before they played Hufflepuff that weekend. "Wake up, mate!"  
  
Harry's mind had been wandering back to his most recent attempt to perform distance Legilimency on Voldemort. There had been something different the previous Tuesday evening; it was subtle, but Harry could feel it all the same. He knew he had gotten closer to breaking down the Dark Lord's defenses - he wasn't sure how he knew, but he knew. There had been just a little bit of give before he had been pushed back this time, and as Harry sat on his broom in the middle of a rather chilly Quidditch practice, he was trying to figure out what he had done differently so that he could expand upon it and try again on Saturday morning.  
  
At Ron's exasperated shout from the end of the pitch, he snapped back to attention and saw the Snitch hovering about fifteen feet directly below him. As Harry gave chase, it sped off toward the opposite end of the pitch, but his Firebolt made excellent time, and he had the struggling Snitch in his hands within the minute.  
  
The rest of the team cheered for him as usual, but he noticed that Ron was glaring at him from the goalposts. Ron didn't say anything, though, until practice was over and they had changed back into their regular school robes.  
  
"Harry, you have to pay attention on the pitch!" Ron said loudly as he, Ginny, and Harry walked back toward the school. "When you're playing Seeker, you have to be focused on –"  
  
"He knows, Ronald," Ginny said. "You already said it a million times. I think Harry gets the point."  
  
"Ginny, the Snitch is worth a hundred and fifty points, in case you don't remember, and it ends the game!" Ron exclaimed.  
  
"Does it really, Ronald?" she asked sarcastically. "Only I reckon if I'd forgotten that, you'd have to chuck me in St. Mungo's for memory loss."  
  
"Harry," Ron said, ignoring his little sister. "You just can't let your concentration go like that, mate. This game should be an easy one, but I need my Seeker to –"  
  
"Catch the Snitch?" Harry suggested, even though he was already thinking about Legilimency again and had barely caught most of the conversation.  
  
"Exactly," Ron said. "And you're not going to catch it if you –"  
  
It was probably lucky for Ron that Hermione showed up at that very moment, because it looked as though Ginny was about to interject again. The tips of both their ears were beginning to turn red, which was never a good sign.  
  
"Ron, Ginny, Harry!" Hermione exclaimed, her cheeks pink from late winter chill as she hurried to meet them. "Hagrid's gotten out of the hospital wing, and he's gone back home!"  
  
"Did they fix his house?" Harry asked, changing directions to head towards the gamekeeper's hut. They had all been to visit Hagrid in the hospital wing as often as they had been allowed to, and they tried as best as they could to cheer him up. The betrayal of his half-brother had hit him hard.  
  
"I think so," Hermione answered. "I haven't been there yet. I was going to go up and visit with him while you all were at Quidditch practice, but Madam Pomfrey said he'd been allowed to leave this afternoon."  
  
"That's great!" Ron said.  
  
"We'll have to hurry if we want to make curfew, though," Ginny observed, "unless you brought your cloak, Harry?"  
  
"No, I didn't bring it," Harry answered, "and besides, there's no way it would cover all four of us."  
  
"We'll just have to make it a quick visit, then," Hermione said decisively, striding forward to lead the way on.  
  
"Right," Ron said, catching up to her and grabbing onto her hand.  
  
When they reached the gamekeeper's hut, they saw that it looked exactly as it had before Grawp's attack, and Harry figured that Dumbledore had probably done the repair work himself.  
  
As they reached the door, it suddenly swung open to reveal Hagrid, looking as large and as healthy as ever. Without a word, he seized all four of them in a hug that knocked their heads together and threatened to crack their ribs.  
  
"Yeh came," he said. "Yeh came ter welcome me back! Knew yeh would!"  
  
Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny glanced at one another uneasily. They had known Hagrid would be glad to see them because he usually was, but he seemed a little too effusive in his greeting. It seemed as though he had seriously considered the fact that they wouldn't come, that he would be left alone.  
  
"Of course we're here, Hagrid," Hermione said quickly. "We're glad you're out of hospital now. Everything okay?" She peered at him anxiously, but relaxed when she saw no sign of injury left on the gamekeeper.  
  
"Righ' as rain," Hagrid said, but there was a definite note of sadness in his voice, and they had all heard it before. He still could not believe that his brother had turned on him. "Why'd Grawpy do that?" he asked suddenly. "Why'd he want ter be Gurg so bad? I kept tryin' to explain ter him that we didn't need a Gurg when it were just the two of us in the Forest, but 'e said I was Gurg anyway. I reckoned it weren't no harm in lettin' him if it made him feel more secure, you know, like 'e was with his own tribe."  
  
Harry glanced at Ginny, who shook her head slightly, indicating that she did not think it was a good idea for Harry to confide his suspicions about Malfoy to Hagrid at that very moment.  
  
"We don't know," Harry answered, feeling like a liar.  
  
"We're so sorry, Hagrid," Hermione added sympathetically.  
  
"S'not yeh lot's job ter know," Hagrid said roughly, wiping at his eyes with his enormous hands. "Where're me manners?" he continued, trying to sound more cheerful. "Here yeh are, visitin' me house, and I 'aven't even offered yeh summat to drink."  
  
"It's okay, Hagrid," Ginny told him immediately, sharing the other's suspicions about anything that the gamekeeper might serve to them. "We can't stay, really, we'll miss curfew."  
  
"Yeah," Ron agreed, although Harry strongly suspected that he had only done so because he wanted to hurry back to Gryffindor Tower and break into his hoard of Honeyduke’s sweets.  
  
"Alrigh'," Hagrid answered sadly. "I knew yeh couldn't stay. You'll come back soon, won't yeh?"  
  
"Of course we will," Hermione said kindly, and he patted her on the head gently, causing her to struggle to retain her balance.  
  
"Thanks," Hagrid said, once again wiping at his eyes. "It's jist so lonely out here now, without Grawpy…" His eyes filled up with huge tears.  
  
"Oh, Hagrid," Ginny said, turning back to him. "We'll be back, we promise. You know we will."  
  
"I know," Hagrid muttered, blinking. "Bein' silly."  
  
"Try not to worry," Hermione whispered to him as they prepared to leave.  
  
"You lot be careful goin' on up ter the school," Hagrid cautioned in a more normal voice as he held the door to his hut open for them.  
  
"We will," they promised, and set off back up the hill. They barely made it to Gryffindor Tower before curfew, and the Fat Lady clicked her tongue at them as they entered.  
  


* * *

  
Lupin sat tiredly in the armchair in his bedroom at Grimmauld Place. He was worried about Harry. He had talked with Tonks at great length about Harry’s recent behavior at school, and he had noticed how much strain the repeated attempts on Voldemort's mind were causing him. He wondered for the umpteenth time whether they were placing too much responsibility on one so young, but he reminded himself that Harry had taken all of it on willingly, even gladly, and he knew that if they tried to stop him, he would only attempt to do it on his own. The results of that could be disastrous.  
  
He sighed. He really wished that he could spend some time face-to-face with Harry, but he knew he was busy with school, and Lupin himself was busy trying to bring some of his fellow werewolves onto the side of the Order in the war. That was proving difficult, as Fenrir Greyback, the most menacing of his kind, was threatening anyone who joined Dumbledore.  
  
Something had to be done about Harry, though, so Lupin checked his watch. It was just after nine in the evening, and he knew that curfew had passed for the students. He pulled his amulet from underneath his robes and held onto it tightly, feeling it warm in his hands as it connected with the one Harry wore at school.  
  
At Hogwarts, Harry felt the warmth of the tiny bottle that was concealed under his robes and kissed Ginny quickly, excusing himself to go up to his dormitory, which he hoped would be empty. Although his friends all knew about the amulet by now, he still preferred privacy when he was talking to his guardian.  
  
" _Hi_ ," Harry thought, concentrating on the connection between the warm charm in his hands and the one held by Lupin.  
  
" _Hello, Harry_ ," Lupin replied warmly, but Harry could feel his concern. " _How are you holding up_?"  
  
" _All right_ ," Harry said, wondering where this was going.  
  
" _Listen, Harry, I know that you probably have homework to do, but I was hoping we could talk for a few minutes_."  
  
" _Sure_ ," Harry replied.  
  
" _Tonks told me about your talk after Defense Against the Dark Arts last week_ ," Lupin said. " _She said you've seemed tired and irritable lately. Want to tell me what's going on_?"  
  
" _Nothing, really_ ," Harry replied, wishing once again that the adults in his life would not discuss him behind his back. " _I'm just tired, that’s all. I've got a lot to do this term_."  
  
" _I know, Harry, and I wish more than anything that you could have a normal life_ ," Lupin said with some regret.  
  
" _I will after_ he's _gone_ ," Harry thought fiercely, and on the other end of the connection, Lupin started a bit. It was apparent that Harry was taking his role in the war extremely seriously, and he had made what peace he could with the fact that in the end it would be his duty to rid the world of Lord Voldemort forever.  
  
Lupin thought for a moment before he replied. He had been intending to offer Harry one more chance to back out of his Legilimency assignment, but it was clear that not only would Harry not take the chance but he would probably be offended by the suggestion. He changed his tactic somewhat and said, " _Are you getting any closer to succeeding with your Legilimency_?"  
  
" _I was closer on Tuesday than I've ever been_ ," Harry said with some frustration. " _But I'm not sure what I did differently, so I don't know how I can repeat it_."  
  
" _Harry, listen to me_ ," Lupin said, not liking the amount of pressure Harry was putting on himself. " _What you are attempting has never been done before. Time and space are important in Legilimency, as you well know, and it is phenomenal that you can even make this attempt. It's going to take some doing to get it right._ "  
  
" _I know, Moony, but the longer it takes me to get into his head, the more plans he can make_ ," Harry thought in frustration. " _Whatever he's planning, it's big and I don't want anything else to happen_."  
  
" _I know, Harry, but you are doing everything you can do right now. Just keep practicing, all right? How are your lessons going with Kingsley_?"  
  
" _I raised a shield charm without saying_ 'Protego,'" Harry said, " _But I can't do it wandlessly and soundlessly at the same time_." Again, frustration was evident in his voice.  
  
" _Harry, you've accomplished a great deal in a very short amount of time_ ," Lupin complimented him. " _If you keep progressing at this rate, you will be more than a match for any Auror out there before the end of term_."  
  
" _We don't have that long_ ," Harry responded.  
  
" _You are doing everything that you can do, Harry_ ," Lupin repeated firmly. " _I'm proud of you, and your parents and Sirius would have been bursting with pride as well at the man you are becoming_."  
  
Harry didn't know how to respond to this, so he changed the subject. He and his guardian chatted for a few more minutes before Lupin regretfully had to cut off so he would not be late to an appointment with a reclusive werewolf who had shown interest in working for the Order.  
  
Harry briefly considered going back downstairs to finish an essay for Professor Flitwick, but as he lay in his comfortable bed, the allure of a good night's rest overcame him. When Ron came up at nearly eleven o'clock, Harry was fast asleep.


	35. Breakthrough

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry finally reaches his goal...now, will he ever be the same again?

Gryffindor won their Quidditch match against Hufflepuff by a 210-point margin and were favorites once again for the Quidditch cup. Ron spent the remainder of February and all of March working his team harder than ever in preparation for the final match against Ravenclaw, determined that the team would not break their four-year winning streak during his Captaincy. They practiced twice weekly for at least an hour in every kind of weather, and Ron insisted that his team play with something close to perfection before he would release them each evening.  
  
The D.A. was still meeting every Wednesday, and Harry was proud of the progress that each of the students was making. He had heard from Tonks that the D.A. members were by far the most advanced students in each of her Defense Against the Dark Arts classes, and Harry grew more and more confident in their abilities to defend themselves each time they met.  
  
Kingsley, too, was working Harry harder than ever. Harry could now perform many of the simpler spells soundlessly, but only when he used his wand. To his own growing frustration, he was unable to perform soundless and wandless magic simultaneously, and he drove himself nearly to distraction practicing each night, sometimes well after curfew with the help of the Marauder's Map and his invisibility cloak. After all of this, he still went back to the Gryffindor Common room and worked on his homework, staying up well past midnight each night before falling exhausted into bed.  
  
On top of everything else, Harry and his friends still traveled to London twice per week to continue Harry's attempts to breach Voldemort's mind. To everyone's growing dismay, he seemed unable to do anything but wear himself out trying to make the connection, but he confided to Lupin that he felt he was growing closer each time and would continue trying until he succeeded.  
  
It was with the thought of finally breaking through that Harry and the others got up well before breakfast on the first Saturday in April and proceeded as usual to Professor McGonagall's office, where she was waiting for them with the freshly-replenished pot of Floo Powder in her hands.  
  
"How are you feeling, Potter?" she asked as the others sleepily took their handfuls of powder and spun away out of the grate.  
  
"Fine, Professor," Harry said, stifling a yawn. The truth was, he had gotten less than four hours of sleep the night before, having stayed up late to finish an essay for NEWT Transfiguration, and after this attempt he had a full day's work ahead of him between Quidditch practice, his daily run, practicing for Kingsley's lessons and his homework.  
  
"You must be focused," she said anxiously, worried that Harry was not actually up for another attempt.  
  
"I'm ready, Professor," Harry said with a touch of impatience. It seemed as though he went through the same routine at least once for each time he traveled to London, with one of the professors, or with Lupin, or with one of his friends. Why wouldn't they understand that he had no plans to quit until he had succeeded, that his own exhaustion was inconsequential in comparison with what he had to do?  
  
Without another word, Harry threw his handful of Floo powder into the fire, stepped into the green flames and cried, "Grimmauld Place!"  
  
Minerva McGonagall watched him go with a lump in her throat. She did not make it a habit to treat any of her students any differently than the others, but she had to admit that she found Harry Potter to be one of the most extraordinary young men she had ever met. As she followed him through the Floo Network to Grimmauld Place, she hoped beyond all hope that his trials would end in time for him to have some kind of a normal life.  
  
"Are you ready, Harry?" Albus Dumbledore asked seriously once they had all assumed their usual stations around the lone chair in the parlor, all having some kind of physical contact with Harry. Ginny was once again holding his hand tightly, wishing it was already over. Tonks had joined the group a few weeks before. Once she had talked to Remus and understood the magnitude of Harry's undertaking, she had insisted on doing anything she could to help.  
  
Harry nodded and closed his eyes, drawing as much strength as he could from the contact of his loved ones. The familiar golden beam appeared almost instantaneously, along with the shimmering beads of light.  
  
Harry had figured out a few attempts earlier on that it worked best if he used his energy on the search. He had found that when he focused on finding Voldemort rather than on propelling the beads of light forward, the light moved on its own and he could get farther before he lost his strength and had to actively draw from the others.  
  
Harry inched through the blackness, every ounce of his energy dedicated to finding and gaining entrance to Voldemort's mind, which he knew was at the other end of the golden beam...if he could only reach it without being pushed back.  
  
As he came towards what had always been the end of his journey, Harry braced himself for the repellant force which always pushed him back. In a few moments time, he felt it but immediately pushed back with all the strength he had left.  
  


* * *

  
In the parlor at Grimmauld Place, the entire room suddenly crackled with magical energy and the group surrounding Harry jumped simultaneously as though they had all felt an electrical current run through his body and into their hands.  
  
"Hold on!" Dumbledore cautioned them softly. He closed his eyes to try to gauge Harry's progress, but he was surprised to find a wall so solid around Harry's mind that it might as well have been made of stone and reinforced steel. His student's defenses had grown strong, almost impenetrable, throughout the past months, but he had never witnessed a shield like this from any wizard, let alone a sixteen-year-old.  
  
"What's happening to him?" Ginny whispered fearfully. She, more than any of the others, could feel the power behind Harry's magic because she was actually holding his hand. His grip had become so strong that it was almost painful, and Ginny was suddenly more afraid for him than she had ever been.  
  
"He's breaking through," Lupin whispered, his face deadly white. "Don't let go of him."  
  


* * *

  
Harry felt as though he was freefalling. He knew he had broken through Voldemort's defenses, but he was not at all sure what he should do. He delved forward, drawing from the strength of his friends. For a few moments, all he saw was darkness, and he wondered if this was some kind of a trap. Remembering what Dumbledore had said, he proceeded with great caution, trying not to alert Voldemort to his presence.  
  
"Use all of your strength," the Headmaster had told him during their most recent meeting, "but use it as quietly as you can. Think of it as you would think of screaming under a silencing charm. The power behind the scream is the same as it always was, but no one can hear it. You must focus on remaining undetected."  
  
Harry had practiced on the Headmaster, and he used the same technique as had been successful in practice. He imagined again the golden beam of light, wrapping it slowly and carefully around himself, protecting him. When he felt surrounded by the very light which had led him into Voldemort's mind, he once again moved forward, probing carefully.  
  
The images Harry began to receive repulsed him and frightened him. Around the edges of every one of Voldemort's memories was a frame of dripping blood, tainting each scene with a sinister red patina.  
  
Harry watched as scenes from what must have been Tom Riddle's childhood flashed in front of him. In the first, two young children cowered in a dark enclosed space, whimpering in pain and soaking wet. A flash of a burning wardrobe and a tall man with long auburn hair came next, and Harry was startled to realize that this must be a much younger Dumbledore.  
  
The scenes raced by in quick succession, not always making sense, and always switching too quickly for Harry to really understand what he had seen. A bubbling potion similar to polyjuice, cowering people in masks, an old cripple and a large snake...the scenes flashed, showing Harry visions of murders, of mayhem, of the Dark Mark hanging over countless destroyed houses...and then, the image suddenly slowed as Harry came to the memory he had been dreading the most.  
  
"Stand aside, you silly girl," hissed a high-pitched, evil voice, sounding in the memory just as it had when Harry had heard it when the dementors got too near him in his third year. He forced himself to watch as the scene panned to his mother, a beautiful young woman with flowing hair and vivid green eyes, opened wide in defiance as she protected her only son.  
  
"Stand aside, you silly girl...you silly girl...you silly girl..." Harry began to lose his grip as his heart grieved for the mother he had never really known, and it took all he had to remain undetected. He could no longer continue forward, and as he spiraled back into the darkness, he caught a glimpse of a heavily armored door, chained many times over and peppered with heavy spikes dripping dark blood before he lost both contact and consciousness.  
  


* * *

  
  
The Order and Harry's friends watched in mixed horror and awe as his eyelids fluttered rapidly.  
  
"He's succeeded," Dumbledore whispered.  
  
Harry barely moved, but the magical undercurrent remained strong as he continued to search Voldemort's mind.  
  
"I wonder what he's seeing," Ginny whispered, and everyone around Harry involuntarily tightened their grips on him at the thought of what must be inside the mind of someone as evil as Voldemort.  
  
Two or three minutes passed in which everyone's gazes remained firmly on Harry's face, which was growing paler as he witnessed the horror that was Voldemort's mind. Suddenly, he began to speak, but the voice was otherworldly and not his own.  
  
"Stand aside, you silly girl..." he muttered, his eyes fluttering wildly now and his head beginning to toss back and forth in denial of what he was seeing.  
  
"Harry!" Lupin exclaimed, remembering just in time not to let go of his charge.  
  
"Hold on," Dumbledore cautioned, his voice laced with worry.  
  
"You silly girl...you silly girl...you silly girl," Harry mumbled, his voice beginning to crack.  
  
Ginny's eyes filled with tears, and her mother and Hermione began to cry openly as they all realized what Harry must be seeing.  
  
"Don't let go," Dumbledore said in a barely-audible whisper.  
  
Then, as suddenly as it had begun, it was over. Harry's body gave a tremendous shudder and he collapsed into the chair.  
  
"It's over," Lupin said hoarsely, and they all looked at the boy they had all come to love in their own ways...as a son, as a lover, as a student and a friend...and they wondered if he would ever be the same again.


	36. Putting It All Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Voldemort has an almost uncanny way of knowing what Harry most fears, and he does not hesitate to play on that as he and Harry come ever closer to their inevitable confrontation.

Lupin sat once again in the old armchair in Sirius's room, watching Harry's chest rise and fall as he slept. He had not yet awoken following his successful use of Legilimency against Voldemort over two hours before, but Dumbledore had assured them all that Harry had expended a great deal of magical energy and would wake up soon.  
  
"When he wakes up, he must not be alone," Dumbledore had advised them seriously. "He has been through his greatest ordeal to date. Miss Weasley, I believe it is particularly important that you be with him and in physical contact, as it has consistently been your face which Harry seeks when he awakens."  
  
Ron, Hermione, and Lupin had all looked slightly hurt by those words, although all three had quickly tried to conceal it. After Lupin had moved Harry into Sirius's old room, a short consultation had been held in the hall, missing only Ginny, who had refused to leave Harry's side. When the door had opened once more, only Lupin, Hermione and Ron had come inside. Silently, Lupin had settled into the armchair and Ron and Hermione had retreated to the wingbacks in the small sitting area. Ginny had already been sitting on the bed next to Harry, one hand softly smoothing his hair, the other clasped in his.  
  
Molly Weasley looked carefully at her daughter as the others opened the door, and a bittersweet feeling of satisfaction and loss coursed through her heart when she had seen Ginny's face so full of love and concern for Harry. It had become obvious over Christmas just how close the two of them had become, and now it seemed as though their relationship had progressed far beyond a normal teenage romance. Molly knew that Ginny could have chosen no person better than Harry Potter, but she could not help feeling an immense weight of sadness for both of them, knowing everything that still lay ahead for Harry before he could even begin to consider a normal life.  
  
No one in the large bedroom spoke until, almost three hours after the connection had been broken, Harry's eyes began to flutter and he squeezed Ginny's hand.  
  
Ginny's gaze warned the others to remain quiet as she leaned down to whisper into his ear. "Hello, my love," she said. "Are you ready to come back to us now?"  
  
Harry opened his eyes to look at her, and then shifted his gaze to the others. Ron and Hermione were standing at the foot of his bed, holding hands and looking extremely worried, and Lupin was now leaning forward in the armchair, his gaze as intense and full of sadness as it had ever been.  
  
Ginny followed his gaze, and then looked back at him. Their eyes met, and she knew that he wanted to be with her alone for awhile. He just wasn't ready for the questions and the worry and the offers of sympathy from the others yet. She looked up at Lupin, then at Ron and Hermione, and nodded her head toward the door.  
  
"Ginny, I - " Lupin began.  
  
"Harry will speak with you in a bit," Ginny said firmly, nodding once again toward the door, her eyes pleading with Lupin to trust her and not to argue.  
  
"We'll see you in awhile, Harry," Hermione said softly, smiling at her friend though her eyes remained full of worry. She grasped Ron's hand and pulled him towards the door, understanding exactly what Ginny was trying to do even as she wished she could stay with him.  
  
"Er, right, mate," Ron stuttered as Hermione pulled him. "Later, then." He didn't know what his girlfriend was on about, but he knew it was either go with her or have a row right in the room with the rest of them, so he didn't argue.  
  
Lupin still hadn't moved from his seat in the armchair when the door clicked shut behind Ron and Hermione, and Ginny's pleading gaze quickly turned into a glare when she saw that he was not moving.  
  
"Professor, Harry needs some time," she said, struggling to keep her temper. _Honestly, sometimes the adults around Harry are so obtuse_ , she thought furiously.  
  
"I am his guardian, Ginny," Lupin said, his tone measured and even. "I've just as much right to be here as –"  
  
"It's not about who has the _right_ to be here," Ginny said, her eyes blazing. "It's about who Harry wants here, and right now he wants me."  
  
Lupin looked down at Harry, who had not said anything to this point, and found that he was not looking at either of them. Harry had closed his eyes again, and Lupin let his gaze drift down to where Harry's hand was grasping Ginny's so hard that it appeared painful. Harry's body was trembling slightly, and it was obvious that he was about half a step away from a complete breakdown.  
  
"Ginny, it is my responsibility to stay with him," Lupin finally replied, putting enough firmness in his voice that he was sure Ginny wouldn't dare to argue with him. "You can stay as well –"  
  
Once again, Ginny did not let him finish. In a blaze of temper, keeping one hand clasped firmly in Harry's, she rose to her knees on the bed and pulled her wand from the pocket of her robe with the other. "Get out," she said flatly, pointing it directly at his face.  
  
"Ginny, point your wand down. Harry needs an adult," Lupin argued, his eyes now fixed on her wand.  
  
"An adult," Ginny sneered. "Based on the success rate of the adults in his life, I'd say that's about the last thing he needs. Get out, Lupin."  
  
"Moony, just go," Harry said, his voice sounding much stronger than they would have expected, and Lupin was startled to hear some anger in there as well. "Leave me alone."  
  
"Harry," Lupin began.  
  
"Just go!" Harry repeated more emphatically, and Ginny tried not to wince as his grip on her hand became even tighter. She kept her wand pointed at the older man, who now seemed to be losing some of his resolve.  
  
"All right, Harry," Lupin said, his tone dripping with what seemed almost to be disappointment. "But I'll be right outside if you need me."  
  
"Go with the others," Harry said, sitting up suddenly. "I don't need to have some long drawn-out conversation about how this all makes me feel, don't you get it? You all want me to save everyone's arses, but when it comes down to it, you don't think I can handle it, is that it?"  
  
"No, Harry," Lupin said, noting that Ginny had put her wand down but was still staring at him, her gaze unyielding. "I just want –"  
  
"To act like my father," Harry finished for him, all the frustration he had been feeling for the past few weeks coming suddenly to the surface. "Well, I don't have a father, Lupin. Bloody Voldemort killed him, remember? Only now I'm not a kid anymore, and I'm working my arse off to make sure that doesn't happen to anyone else."  
  
Lupin stared at Harry, his eyes wide. This was not the same boy who had come to Grimmauld Place only a few months before, broken and near death.  
  
"You want to help me?" Harry asked him. "Then back the bloody hell off and let me do my job."  
  
Even Ginny was surprised at this statement, but she didn't let it show on her face as Lupin finally stood. "We all want to help you, Harry," he said. "Tell us what you need, and we'll do our best to make sure you get it."  
  
"I need for you to leave me be so I can figure out what I'm going to do next," Harry said somewhat cruelly.  
  
Lupin did not say another word as he turned his back and left the room, the door clicking softly shut behind him so that Ginny and Harry were finally alone.  
  
"So what _do_ you want to do next?" Ginny asked, giving Harry's hand a squeeze. He was still looking toward the door, his face cloudy.  
  
"I know what he wanted," Harry said, ignoring her question. "He wanted me to cry and moan and tell him how terrible it was seeing Mum die."  
  
"Wasn't it?" Ginny asked softly.  
  
Harry sighed, coming down a bit from his annoyance with Lupin. "Yeah," he admitted. "I've heard it before, whenever the dementors got too close third year, but seeing it was different." For the merest fraction of a second, it looked like he was about to cry, but instead he took a deep breath and fixed Ginny with a piercing stare.  
  
"I've got to have another go," he said firmly. "All I got were memories, and all the good they did was showing me just how evil that git really is. There was a door, a locked door. I've got to get past that."  
  
"A locked door?" Ginny asked in some confusion. She had Harry had never really talked about the specifics of Legilimency and Occlumency.  
  
"That's where his defenses were way up," Harry explained. "Whatever's in that part of his mind, he doesn't want anyone to find out."  
  
"But he doesn't know you're doing this, does he?" Ginny asked.  
  
"I don't think so," Harry replied. "If he had, he would have pushed me out as soon as he realized I was in there. Voldemort doesn't trust anyone, even the Death Eaters. He'd have that wall up so no one could gain access."  
  
"What all did you see?"  
  
"Memories, mostly. I saw someone that looked like a younger Dumbledore - that must have been when he found out he was a wizard. I saw people he's killed, places he's destroyed - things like that."  
  
Ginny was a little surprised at the offhand way in which Harry seemed to be recounting the memories, almost as though seeing things like that no longer upset him at all. Truth be told, it scared her. "Harry, I think you should wait a bit before you go again," she said firmly.  
  
"Don't you understand?" Harry said. "The longer I wait, the more time he has to do these kinds of things. You didn't see it, you didn't feel the way it made him feel. He's evil, Ginny; he likes doing these things."  
  
"I know he's evil, and I know you've got to stop him, Harry," Ginny said. "All I'm saying is –"  
  
"I know what you're saying, Ginny," Harry said, grasping her hand in both of his. "But we can't sit around and wait anymore. That time is over."  
  
Ginny nodded, willing herself to stay strong. The last thing Harry needed was a weepy girl on his hands, and she knew that. She kept her eyes dry and her gaze steady as she looked at the man she had chosen to love. "You're right, Harry," she said, and her voice shook only the slightest little bit. "We can't let him hurt anyone else."  
  
Harry leaned forward and kissed her, pulling her into his lap, where they sat in silence for a few moments. As he stared straight in front of him at the bedroom wall, only one thought was in his mind: no matter what else happened, he would not let Voldemort or any of his minions touch Ginny Weasley.  
  
He drew her closer to him as his green eyes filled with tears he refused to shed. The faces of his parents, of Sirius and of the countless friends he had vowed to save flashed through his mind, and even through his tears, his eyes flashed with purpose.  
  


* * *

  
At Dumbledore's insistence, Harry did not make another Legilimency attempt against Voldemort that day. The Headmaster had pointed out that the morning's success had been quite enough for one day, and that if Harry tried again, he would find it harder to remain undetected.  
  
"You have expended a large amount of energy this morning, Harry," he had said. "And although I have no doubts that you could successfully breach Voldemort's mind again, I fear that you would not be able to keep your presence hidden. That would undo all of the work we've done."  
  
Harry had finally agreed, mainly because Dumbledore had not once suggested that it had been too much for him. What the Headmaster said had made sense, and Harry could find no argument for it. What he didn't know was that Lupin had told Dumbledore about what Harry had said to him, so he had not even attempted to take that tack on the situation, knowing he would meet only resistance.  
  
In their usual class sessions that week, Harry worked with the Headmaster on various ways to get past the inner defenses in Voldemort's mind, specifically the door with the iron spikes. Dumbledore had been quite interested in Harry's description of that door, and indeed of everything else Harry had seen, even though it did not seem to Harry as though any of it was of any real importance.  
  
"Our memories, Harry, can be as telling as any glimpse of the future," Dumbledore told him. "The memories you accessed on Saturday were those at the forefront of his mind, and thus, easiest for you to reach. They are memories which he is particularly proud or fond of, or quite ashamed or afraid of."  
  
"He's fond of his memories of murder?" Harry replied incredulously.  
  
"Indeed," Dumbledore replied, settling back into his chair, his fingers steepled under his chin and his gaze fixed on Harry. "You told me that you felt his enjoyment at the things he had done, did you not?"  
  
Harry nodded, but even though he had felt Voldemort's emotions, he was having trouble understanding how anyone could actually look back on memories of murder and be proud of them.  
  
"And were there also scenes which gave you a feeling other than enjoyment?" Dumbledore continued.  
  
"When I saw the burning wardrobe," Harry said, wondering where this was going, "he didn't like that. And then, when I saw you."  
  
"Correct, Harry," the Headmaster replied. "As a matter of fact, those two memories are related."  
  
"How, sir?" Harry asked, becoming interested in spite of himself.  
  
"You see, I was the wizard who set Tom Riddle's wardrobe aflame nearly sixty years ago," Dumbledore said calmly. "Tom wanted proof that magic existed, even though he already knew by that point that he was different from the other children. I sensed correctly that there were some stolen articles in the wardrobe, so I chose that place for my demonstration. The wardrobe was not harmed, of course."  
  
 _The wardrobe wasn't harmed_? Harry thought. _He's talking about Tom Riddle's memories and he thinks I'm concerned about a_ wardrobe?  
  
Dumbledore seemed to read Harry's thoughts at that moment. "It never does well to destroy the possessions of others, Harry, when it can be helped."  
  
Briefly, Harry wondered if this was a rebuke for his behavior in this office almost a year before, but when he looked at the Headmaster's face, he found that the old man's eyes were twinkling. _He's teasing me_ , Harry thought, once again slightly incredulous at Dumbledore's levity when the stakes were so high.  
  
The Headmaster's expression turned serious once more. "Why do you suppose, Harry, that these memories inspired dislike, even fear, in Voldemort when others, so much more terrible, sparked pleasure for him?"  
  
"Because they had to do with you, sir," Harry said. "Everyone knows you are the only wizard Voldemort has ever feared."  
  
"Not exactly, Harry, and I daresay Voldemort does not fear me nearly as much as people believe he does. Think hard. Can you find no other major difference between the two sets of memories?"  
  
Harry screwed up his face in thought for a few moments, and then the answer started to come to him, almost as if he had known it all along. "Power," Harry said. "When he kills and destroys, he has power, and that's what he wants."  
  
"Go on, Harry," Dumbledore urged.  
  
"Tom Riddle was used to getting what he wanted," Harry continued slowly, piecing it all together as he remembered the scene with the two cowering children in Voldemort's memory. "He had power, he knew that, and he used it on other kids."  
  
"That is correct, do continue."  
  
"When you came and set fire to his wardrobe, it was the first time he knew he'd met someone he couldn't bowl over with his abilities," Harry said. "He was scared, and he's been scared of you ever since."  
  
"An astute observation, Harry," Dumbledore said, inclining his head. "First impressions are indeed powerful, and that is one advantage you yourself possess."  
  
"I've never made an impression on Voldemort," Harry said.  
  
"Indeed?" Dumbledore asked, looking surprised. "I no longer believe I am the only wizard Voldemort fears, if indeed he fears me at all."  
  
"You think Voldemort is scared of me?" Harry said, trying to suppress a sarcastic laugh.  
  
"Harry, think about what you have just discovered," the Headmaster prodded. "You said that Voldemort's greatest fear is the lack of power, did you not?"  
  
"Erm," Harry replied, not at all sure whether or not that was what he had said.  
  
"You have confronted Voldemort five times in your short lifetime, Harry," Dumbledore said gravely. "And each time, you have not only escaped but defeated him in some fundamental way. He has never held any power over you."  
  
"But all those times, someone helped me. I've never done it on my own," Harry said in confusion. "Why would he be afraid of me? I'm no match against him, and he knows it."  
  
"And yet, time and again, you have proven yourself as more than a match for him," Dumbledore insisted. "And not because of others - what help you have received has come about as a direct result of the strength and power you hold within yourself. It is indeed the 'power the Dark Lord knows not,' Harry. He can never hope to have your kind of power, and it will be his undoing."  
  
Harry didn't know what to say. Dumbledore had told him something similar at the start of the school year, and he had not really believed it then. Now, understanding what he did about Voldemort's want, no, his need for power, he had to wonder. Was Voldemort truly afraid of him, as Dumbledore suggested? Almost as soon as the thought entered Harry's mind, he rejected it. It just wasn't possible, wasn't plausible that the most feared wizard of their time was afraid of a sixth-year student who still couldn't manage a simple conjuring spell.  
  
"Now, Harry, about your next Legilimency attempt," Dumbledore said, almost as though they had not delved into Tom Riddle's past. "I believe you have a Quidditch match on Saturday?"  
  
"Yes, sir," Harry answered. The match against Ravenclaw was on Saturday, and Ron was relentlessly working his team in preparation for it.  
  
"It would certainly not do for you to be tired out for Quidditch" Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled.  
  
"I –" Harry said, looking down, hating what he was about to say. He had not considered the fact that the actual break-in to Voldemort's mind was much more taxing than his unsuccessful attempts, and that he would be in no shape for the Quidditch final after another episode like the one the previous weekend. "I don't have to play. There's a reserve Seeker, well, actually, it's Ginny, so we'd use a reserve Chaser instead." He rambled slightly. Quidditch was one of the few things he still looked forward to, but he knew that the war was infinitely more important.  
  
"Quite noble, Harry," Dumbledore said, "but it is unnecessary. Variance is a key factor in any wartime strategy, and we must all take time to enjoy life lest we forget what we are fighting for. I believe that Sunday morning would be an ideal time for another attempt." The Headmaster smiled kindly at Harry, who looked relieved in spite of himself. He had not liked to think of what Ron would say if he found out Harry would not be playing in the final game of the season.  
  
"I believe it is time for your lunch, now, Harry," Dumbledore continued. "Off with you, and good luck on Saturday."  
  
"Thank you, sir," Harry said, his mind still working furiously at the information he had received during that session.  
  
Dumbledore watched him leave, feeling the familiar balloon of pride in his own chest at the young man walking so much more confidently from his office than he had a year ago. With a pang of sadness, he thought of all Harry had faced and had yet to face, but he no longer wished someone else could take the mantle of responsibility from his student. It was clearer now than it had ever been - Harry Potter was not only the man destined to fight Tom Riddle, but was the man destined to defeat him.  
  


* * *

  
The morning of the Gryffindor versus Ravenclaw Quidditch match dawned cool and incredibly windy, rendering Ron completely speechless over breakfast. As Hermione urged him to eat, he kept glancing up, watching the swiftly-moving white clouds race across the bewitched ceiling of the Great Hall as they all listened to the windows rattle with the force of the spring wind.  
  
After breakfast, the Gryffindor team shouldered their brooms and walked together to the pitch, their free hands clenched tightly to their robes to keep them from blowing right over their heads. When they had all changed into their red and gold Quidditch uniforms, they sat on the benches, waiting expectantly for their Captain to make his traditional pre-game speech.  
  
Harry was reminded forcibly of Oliver Wood's extreme nervousness before the Quidditch final at the end of third year, which had been Wood's last chance of seeing his team win the Quidditch Cup. Ron stood before the other six members of his team, the confidence and leadership he had shown during their many practices seeming quite gone as he nervously cleared his throat, his eyes darting from one of the players to the next. Harry felt Ginny squeeze his hand slightly before letting go and raising it into the air.  
  
"Yes, Ginny?" Ron asked, his voice barely more than a croak.  
  
"How should we adjust our strategies?" Ginny asked him. "What with the wind and all, some of the distance plays we've been using probably won't work quite as well, will they?"  
  
Harry had no doubt that the three Chasers, who worked seamlessly with each other in all conditions, could deal with the wind easily, but the question had seemed to be just what Ron had needed to snap back into his usual Captain's demeanor.  
  
"Right," he said, suddenly sounding a bit more confident. "Ginny, Katie, Meg, for this game I want you staying in close formation. Don't separate until you move in for a goal, and get as close as you can to the hoops before making your shot."  
  
The three Chasers nodded seriously, although Ginny shot a quick grin at Harry when Ron turned his focus on Sloper and Kirke, the two Beaters. "Right, you two," he said briskly. "The Bludgers are going to be even more out of control than usual in this game, so keep a sharp eye out. Kirke, I want you to focus on defending the Chasers. Sloper, your focus is to be on Harry. He's going to have a right hard time finding the Snitch with everything blowing around like it is, and he doesn't need to be worrying about Bludgers any more than he has too."  
  
Andrew Kirke and Jack Sloper both nodded. Harry thought it was pretty smart of Ron to give them such specific assignments. Although the Gryffindor Beaters were playing much better this year than last, their strategies were far from flawless and they had the tendency not to pay as much attention to their teammates as they should.  
  
"Harry," Ron said, turning at last to his Seeker. "You've been a bit distracted lately, mate, and we can't afford that today. Stay high, away from the rest of the game, and keep your eyes open and your mind on the Snitch. Cho Chang's playing better than ever this year, and this is her last shot for the Quidditch Cup, so she's going to be on her game."  
  
Harry scowled a bit as Ron pointed out his lack of focus, but his scowl quickly changed to a suppressed grin when he felt Ginny bristle next to him at the mention of the Ravenclaw Seeker. Although the two girls were civil, even cordial to one another at D.A. meetings, it was obvious to everyone that there was no love lost between them. Ginny was still annoyed at the way Cho had treated Harry the previous year, and Hermione insisted that Cho was jealous of Ginny, although Harry could not see why. Whatever the cause, though, he wondered whether their mutual dislike would have any effects on the pitch.  
  
"Right," Ron said, his voice becoming nervous again. "Are we ready, then?"  
  
"Absolutely," Ginny said strongly as she stood and shouldered her broom. "C'mon, Meg, Katie. Let's get out there." The other two Chasers joined her and they waited at the entrance to the pitch for the rest of the team.  
  
"Ready, Ron," Kirke said as he and Sloper joined the girls.  
  
Harry nodded at Ron, still feeling just a slight bit irritated that Ron had pointed out his lack of attention in front of the whole team. Still, though, the small voice inside his head reminded him honestly, he's got a point, hasn't he?  
  
The roar of the wind and the crowd greeted the Gryffindor team as they flew as one to the center of the pitch, where they all fought to keep their brooms in a still hover as they waited for the blue-clad Ravenclaw team and Madam Hooch to join them. Harry had to lean to the right, holding his Firebolt tightly, to keep himself still, and he made mental adjustments to his flying strategy based on the direction and force of the wind.  
  
Just as he had determined in what ways the pull of the wind was going to affect him on what areas of the pitch, Madam Hooch's whistle sounded and the game began. Harry pulled his Firebolt into a steep vertical ascent, soaring above the game and watching as Cho did the same on the opposite end of the pitch. She nodded to him slightly as they began circling the pitch in opposite directions, fighting hard to keep their brooms under control as the wind threatened to send anyone foolish enough to be in the air soaring to the ground.  
  
Harry could hear nothing of Justin Finch-Fletchley's commentary over the roaring of the wind and the crowd below, but he made it a point to glance at the scoreboard each time he passed it. From the looks of things, the both the Ravenclaw and the Gryffindor Chasers were doing a fine job of flying in close formation, and half an hour into the game, the score was 130-100 in Gryffindor's favor. Harry had caught no sign of the Snitch, and with the score as close as it was, he knew he could take no chance of Cho catching sight of the tiny gold ball before he did.  
  
The crowd gave a gasp of delight as Harry pushed his Firebolt into a tight downward spiral, heading towards the center of the pitch. He had thought briefly of using the Wronski Feint again, but he didn't find nearly as much satisfaction in the thought of Cho getting ploughed as he had of Malfoy the previous fall. As he spiraled through the players, keeping tight control of his broomstick, he noted with satisfaction that Cho had stopped circling the pitch and was watching him closely.  
  
Putting on his best look of fake concentration, Harry suddenly pulled his broomstick out of the spiral and began to race toward the Gryffindor goal posts. He could not hear the whoosh of Cho's broom as she dove from her position to follow him, but he grinned in satisfaction as she pulled down beside him. Pretending to get caught in a particularly nasty gust of wind, he slowed and veered slightly off to the right, allowing her to pull just ahead of him.  
  
Before he had a chance to react, however, Cho quickly pulled her broom up and began ascending in a sharp diagonal, still going in the same general direction. Harry's heart sank as he realized what he had done.  
  
At the Gryffindor end of the pitch, glittering just above Ron's head, was the Golden Snitch. Harry's feint had not had the effect he had planned; rather, he had brought Cho and Ravenclaw closer to victory and had all but sealed Gryffindor's fate when he had slowed down, intending to race off in the other direction.  
  
He leaned forward, willing his Firebolt to go faster, but in the strong headwind, he knew he was unlikely to catch up to Cho no matter how superior his broomstick was to hers. He had given her too much of a head start.  
  
Harry caught Ron's look of horror when he realized what was happening and he continued to give chase, hoping upon hope that the Snitch would change position in his favor. He closed in on Cho, getting close enough that he could almost grasp the tail of her broom. He reached out, hoping he could slow her down, but before he had a chance to grab hold, he heard a great crunch as a great red ball smashed right into Cho Chang's side, just as she was reaching for the Snitch.  
  
Even as he watched her fall, Harry instinctively flew the last few feet forward and caught the struggling Snitch. He held it up to the cheering of the Gryffindor fans as he turned sharply and stopped his broom, now leaning to the left to keep it from blowing off into the wind.  
  
Over the sound of the gusts of air, he heard the familiar chorus of "Weasley is our King" coming from the Gryffindor stands, but it sounded a bit different than it had before. It was only when the chorus was repeated that he realized that the Gryffindors had changed the words slightly. They were now singing, "Weasley is our Queen."  
  
 _I wonder what that's about_ , Harry thought as he flew towards the center of the pitch to join his celebrating teammates. As he flew, still clutching the Snitch, his face lit into the biggest grin he had worn in awhile as he replayed in his mind the moment before he had caught it. The ball that had hit Cho had been red, which meant it had not been a Bludger.  
  
"Harry!" Ron cried as he reached the center of the pitch. "You did it, mate! I thought we were sunk for sure!"  
  
"I don't think it was all my doing," Harry called as he inched his broom closer to Ginny. "Who threw the Quaffle at Cho?" he asked loudly.  
  
"That, my love, would be me," Ginny yelled, her face flushed with victory as she grabbed onto the same hand in which Harry held the Snitch. With her other hand, she pointed down to the grassy pitch, where Madam Pomfrey appeared to be mending several broken ribs in Cho's right side.  
  
"Well, you saved the game, didn't you?" Ron said, clapping his sister on the shoulder. "There's a Weasley for you!"  
  
Harry supposed he should have felt somewhat embarrassed that he had only been able to catch the Snitch due to Ginny's intervention, but as he looked into her glowing face and those of the rest of the players, he couldn't find it in himself to feel anything but happy. He and Ginny raised their joined hands, the Snitch still struggling to free itself from Harry's grip, and the crowd roared its approval as Madam Hooch flew towards them, the huge silver Quidditch Cup held tightly in one arm.  
  
She handed it to Ron, who accepted it with a momentary look of complete reverence. He held it in both his hands, his knees clasped tightly around his Cleansweep, and for a moment, he did nothing but stare. The crowd went a bit quieter as the students waited to see what Ron would do, and for the first time, Harry could hear Justin Finch-Fletchley's voice over the magical megaphone. "And this victory leads Gryffindor to their third straight Interhouse Quidditch championship," he said, his voice sounding only slightly more excited than it usually did.  
  
These words snapped Ron back into the present, and he nodded his head, indicating that he wanted his team to gather beside him as he held the glittering cup high in over his head. The crowd once again roared its approval as the scarlet-clad Gryffindors began to spill onto the pitch. The team sank as one to the ground, only to find themselves hoisted onto the shoulders of the crowd and taken towards the castle, feeling as though they were riding atop a wave of chattering monkeys, for in the excitement, not one word from below could be understood.  
  
Harry and Ginny were still holding hands, grasping the Snitch between them, and he turned and grinned at her. "You really don't like Cho, do you?"  
  
"How could you tell?" Ginny replied coyly.  
  
"Well, you nearly knocked her off her broom with that Quaffle, didn't you?" Harry said, laughing at the somewhat wicked grin on his girlfriend's face.  
  
Ginny leaned in close to him, causing the two third-years who were carrying her to stumble and run into the two who were carrying Harry. Ignoring the havoc she was causing in the crowd below, she put her lips right up to his ear. "If that's what it takes to make you laugh, my love, I'll do it every day."  
  
Harry blushed a bit. He didn't know how to respond to that, so he cleared his throat and said a bit too loudly, "Well, you did it, anyway. You won the game."  
  
"No, Harry," Ginny said, sitting up straight again and causing her carriers, who had just adjusted to the new position, to stumble again. "I didn't win the game. Neither did you. We did it together."  
  
Harry ascended the staircase to the boys' dormitory late that Saturday night, stuffed to the brim with snacks and Butterbeer from the party in the common room, his lips tingling from Ginny's goodnight kiss. He did not have a thought in his mind besides how great it had felt to have something to celebrate, and how Ginny's smiles had seemed to light up the whole room.  
  
As Harry turned his bedclothes down, he had mixed feelings when he saw his amulet lying where he had left it, just below his pillow. It was glowing blue, and without touching it, Harry knew it would be warm to the touch. He sighed, telling himself that Lupin was probably already asleep as he picked the amulet up by its leather chain and depositing it on his nightstand. He just wasn't in the mood to talk to his guardian.  
  
A slight feeling of guilt nagged him, but he did not change his mind. Instead, he closed his eyes and firmly shifted his thoughts back to Ginny and the way she had held him for just a few extra seconds before he went to bed, letting him know that she would always be beside him.  
  


* * *

  
It was with grim determination the following morning that Harry traveled from Hogwarts to Grimmauld Place. He nodded his thanks to everyone as he sat in the chair in the middle of the parlor and they gathered around in their customary places. He did not wait for any preparatory words or warnings from anyone, but as soon as he felt Ginny's hand in his, he closed his eyes and began to focus.  
  
It did not take him nearly as long as it had before to gain entrance into Voldemort's mind, and this time, Harry was ready for what he would see. As he had practiced with Dumbledore, he imagined flipping through Voldemort's memories as he would pages in a diary, skipping the ones he had already seen. To his great surprise, it worked.  
  
Those standing around Harry saw little change in him as he did this. The only indications were slight twitches around his eyes and the way his grip tightened on Ginny's as he sped through what he had already seen. As he passed the memory of his mother's death, a single tear fought its way free of his fluttering eyelid and trickled down his cheek, but he gave no indication of anything else.  
  
For Harry, slipping past the memory of that night when Voldemort has murdered his parents took more strength of will than he would have thought possible. It seemed almost a betrayal of them to skip past that snapshot of their last moments, but Dumbledore had warned him about that very thing.  
  
"You must not allow yourself to dwell in the past or expend energy on emotion," he had counseled Harry. "Your parents would never have wanted you to see what you have been forced to see, and if this is all to be worth the pain it has caused you, you must move past it and deeper into Voldemort's mind."  
  
Harry had agreed, but it was easier said than done. Still, he felt his heart burst to the breaking point as he heard the echoes of his mother's pleas as he sped past the memory, and he took a moment to regain his calm, squeezing Ginny's hand for comfort.  
  
He saw little that he had not seen before as he rushed through the forefront of the Dark Lord's mind, and he tried to ignore the dripping blood that framed each of the memories. He stopped short when he reached the door that had been haunting his thoughts all week, the dark, heavy door with the lethal-looking metal spikes.  
  
 _This is it_ , Harry thought as he imagined himself cautiously approaching the door. _If I can't get through, there is no point to any of this_. He took a moment to clear his own mind of thought as he shored up every remaining bit his energy, sure that the others would be able to feel him drawing on their strength through the contacts of their touch.  
  
"You must remember," Dumbledore had advised him, "that the door in Voldemort's mind is not solid. It simply seems so because that is how he wishes it to seem. You will succeed in gaining entrance, Harry, but you must also endeavor to remain invisible. My advice to you would be to pass through the door rather than attempt to break it down."  
  
Remembering this advice and the practice runs he had taken on Dumbledore's own shields, Harry shored up his courage, trying to ignore the blood dripping from each of the spikes, reminding himself that it was not a physical thing and that it could not hurt him. Drawing once again from the strength of his friends, he focused on the door and sped towards it, fully expecting to be impaled as he drew closer.  
  
In the parlor at Grimmauld Place, the force of Harry's push into Voldemort's mind caused the floor to shake and the knickknacks on the mantle to rattle as though the house was haunted. Dumbledore, the only person in the room not in direct contact with Harry, leaned forward and stared at his face intently. The others, particularly Remus and Ginny, also kept their eyes trained on Harry, but it would have been obvious even to a casual observer that this particular experience was having more of a direct effect on all of them than the others had.  
  
Harry was reminded of his first time to pass through the gateway of Platform Nine and Three-Quarters. He had fully expected to run into the wall, and if it had not been for Molly Weasley's advice, he might never have made it. The feelings of surprise and wonder he had felt at passing through what had seemed to be solid rock were no greater than the surprise he felt now when he realized he had not been impaled by the bloody iron spikes of the Dark Lord's defenses. He shook off his surprise and began probing into the darkness.  
  
This layer of Voldemort's mind, even though he had gotten past the initial defense, was proving much harder to access than the original memories, and Harry was careful to remain low-key as he searched, drawing desperately from the others as he felt his own strength begin to weaken.  
  
The first images Harry received were quite different than what he had expected. These scenes were not framed in blood like the first ones have been, but were almost sepia-toned, like old-fashioned Muggle photographs.  
  
A young boy of perhaps five years, dark-haired and nervous looking, waited outside a drab-looking office and cringed as his name was called sternly from within. Harry did not follow, but almost felt sorry for the boy he understood to be the young Tom Riddle as he heard the swish of a cane and the cries of the child as he was beaten for some unknown offense.  
  
The next image was similar to the first. The young boy, now perhaps eight years old, waited outside the same office. His look was different now. There was no nervousness in his expression, but a hatred which did not seem fitting on the face of one so young. There were no cries from within this time as the rattan cane swished through the air and landed with painful-sounding smacks, and for the first time ever, Harry began to understand part of what had made Tom Riddle who he had become.  
  
As Harry felt the strength of his friends begin to weaken, he knew he must press on, and he sped past other sepia-toned memories of Tom Riddle's childhood in search of something that would help him in the here-and-now.  
  
In the parlor, Harry's friends grew paler as they felt their strength being drawn through their connection with him, and the others gasped as Hermione was the first to fall. Slowly, as if she had been given the Draught of Peace, she fell to her knees and her contact with Harry was broken as she fainted.  
  
"Don't move!" Dumbledore ordered, his own face paler than usual. "Miss Granger will recover after some rest. It is imperative that the connection not be broken!"  
  
The others set their faces into expressions of resolve and wrenched their gazes away from Hermione's still form to bring their focus back onto Harry, whose expression was changing rapidly from one of sympathy, to one of confusion and finally to the angry expression that told him he was most likely witnessing another one of Voldemort's attacks.  
  
Harry was not, in fact, seeing anything of the kind. After he had gone past memories of Voldemort's past, he began to see what he suspected were plans for the future. Maps of London, of the Ministry of Magic...a piece of parchment with Imelda Arnold's name emblazoned boldly across the top...a dark, dank room, the center of which held a dais with an empty chair in the middle...the smell of seawater, the stench of blood...  
  
Harry's strength faltered as Tonks broke the connection and sat weakly on the floor, taking Hermione's hand shakily, marveling to herself at the amount of power Harry seemed to be able to glean from his friends, but knowing that she herself had nothing left to give. Of the six still touching Harry, only Ginny, Molly and Remus seemed to be holding onto their strength, but Harry himself began to weaken from his own effort.  
  
The images inside Voldemort's mind began to fade as Harry's strength waned. Just before the connection broke, one phrase echoed through his mind, a phrase that filled him with alarm.  
  
"Take her," Lord Voldemort's high voice ordered. "Bring her to me."  
  
With a snap, the connection was broken as Harry faded into unconsciousness. One by one, the others let go of him, each one of them sinking to the floor in stunned disbelief. Dumbledore himself was the only one with strength enough to move, and he used his wand to levitate Harry's lifeless form up the stairs and back into Sirius's old room. The others followed as they were able, and in less than ten minutes time, all of the previously unoccupied rooms of Grimmauld Place held the sleeping forms of Harry's friends and family. Only Lupin and Ginny refused to nap, preferring instead to take their places by Harry's bed to wait with him until he woke up.  
  


* * *

  
As much as the experience had drained everyone at Grimmauld Place, the adults woke up shortly before Hermione and Ron and long before Harry. Downstairs in the kitchen, Molly, Tonks, McGonagall and Arthur were holding a heated conversation with Dumbledore as they sipped steaming mugs of Molly's peppermint tea.  
  
"You cannot be thinking of letting that Malfoy boy stay, Albus!" Molly exclaimed furiously, having just heard Tonks's account of catching Draco Malfoy spying upon them in February. "It's obvious that he was told to spy by that no good –"  
  
"There is more than that, Molly," Albus said seriously. He knew it was time to inform the Order of Malfoy's status as a Death Eater, and he had chosen this moment to do so.  
  
"More?" Molly said disbelievingly. "How could there be more, unless…Dumbledore, are you telling us that Draco Malfoy is actually a Death Eater? He couldn't possibly be –"  
  
"Why not?" Tonks asked. "It would be the perfect cover, wouldn't it?"  
  
"The perfect cover," Dumbledore agreed. "I myself, though I suspected that Draco Malfoy might eventually be seduced by his father's master, did not immediately guess that he had already been accepted into Voldemort's inner circle."  
  
"He's too young," Arthur interjected. "He's still a child."  
  
"Are any of them still children?" McGonagall asked quietly, looking deeply troubled. "Was what we witnessed today the work of a child?"  
  
"When did you become aware of Draco's status?" Molly asked, her tone measured and even.  
  
"Over the winter holidays," Dumbledore answered simply. "I suspected before that, but I received proof when Draco went to Hogsmeade a few days before Christmas. He met his father there as well as Lord Voldemort."  
  
"Christmas!" McGonagall exclaimed. "Albus, that was months ago." Her tone regained its usual curtness as she realized how much the Headmaster had been keeping from all of them.  
  
"You mean to tell me that my children have been attending school alongside a Death Eater and you knew about it? Knew, but did nothing?" Molly asked dangerously.  
  
"I do not believe Draco Malfoy's heart is fully in his mission," Dumbledore replied. "It was, and still is, my hope that he will come to us as he realizes what true allegiance to Voldemort entails." He then described what he had witnessed at the Shrieking Shack so many months ago.  
  
Molly Weasley seemed shaken as Dumbledore described Voldemort's use of the Cruciatus Curse on Draco. "That poor child," she said softly. "His father did nothing to stop it?"  
  
"You don't stop Voldemort from doing anything that he wants to do," Remus said as he entered the room. "Harry's awake. Ginny is with him now. What are you discussing?"  
  
"Draco Malfoy is a Death Eater," Tonks supplied as Remus tiredly sat down next to her.  
  
"A Death Eater? We know this for certain?" he asked in some surprise, and his voice took on a hard edge.  
  
"I caught him under and invisibility cloak trying to listen to a conversation between Harry and myself awhile back," Tonks said.  
  
"And you never mentioned it to me?" Remus asked, looking disgruntled.  
  
Tonks did not reply, but no one at the table missed her sidelong glance at Dumbledore.  
  
"You _knew_ ," Molly stated, the shakiness gone out of her voice. "You not only knew that Draco Malfoy was a Death Eater, but that he has been actively spying upon the other students."  
  
"Indeed, Molly, I knew," Dumbledore affirmed. "I thought it best that it be kept quiet until I had had a chance to gather more detailed information."  
  
"What other information could you possibly need?" Arthur asked. "If the Malfoy boy is a true Death Eater, the safety of the students should be your main concern. He can't be allowed to stay." Arthur, ever sane and reasonable, made this statement more passionately than was normal for him. When the safety of his children was at stake, he found it much more difficult to be objective, especially after Fred's death.  
  
"As I said a few moments ago, it was and is my hope that Draco Malfoy will see the error in his ways and come back to us. If that happens, he would be a useful source of information."  
  
"Why have you chosen today to give us this information, Albus?" McGonagall asked. She, above all others, knew well enough that nearly everything Dumbledore did had a clear and calculated reason behind it. "Why now, after all this time?"  
  
"As we approach the time at which Voldemort's plans are to be carried out, and I believe that will occur sooner rather than later, we must keep a closer eye than ever on potential enemies, and I am afraid that outweighs my hope for the boy's redemption."  
  
"I confiscated his invisibility cloak," Tonks said with some satisfaction. "That will make sneaking about more difficult, won't it?"  
  
"We can't guarantee that he doesn't have another one," Remus pointed out.  
  
"I am afraid that Mr. Malfoy's duties have extended beyond mere spying," Dumbledore said gravely. "With appropriate caution, spying can be dealt with. However, it seems that Lord Voldemort is not satisfied with the limited information he has been given."  
  
"What do you mean, Albus?" McGonagall asked, and she suddenly felt afraid of his answer.  
  
"I am sure you all recall the attack on Rubeus Hagrid?" Dumbledore asked.  
  
"That was Malfoy's doing?" Arthur asked sharply.  
  
"I am afraid so, Arthur," the Headmaster replied.  
  
"Albus, you can't be serious!" McGonagall replied. "How could he have been?" As she said this, however, she remembered her suspicions from the beginning of the spring term. When she had found out about the giant in the forest, she had wondered then if that had anything to do with Draco Malfoy's frequent visits.  
  
"I am quite serious, Minerva. We were aware of Malfoy's visits to the forest, and it had been my intention to have him followed on one of them as soon as was possible. I believed, mistakenly it seems, that he had been meeting his father in the forest, and I thought it unwise to alert him of our suspicions."  
  
Molly had been strangely silent through the last part of this exchange, and Arthur glanced at her warily. The tips of her ears were quite red, and as the discussion had continued, there had been a definite flush creeping into her cheeks. It came as no surprise, then, that when she finally began to speak, she had some sharp words for Dumbledore.  
  
"Once again, Albus, your mistakes could have cost my children their lives, and I simply will not tolerate it for one more instant," she said, her tone laced with steel. "Draco Malfoy is a Death Eater, he has somehow been in communication with the Dark Lord, he has been spying upon Harry and he nearly caused Hagrid's death. How could you keep this secret? How could you allow him to stay at Hogwarts, knowing what you do? It's preposterous!" Her voice increased in volume as she continued. "If you do not have that boy removed from Hogwarts, and I mean immediately, I will remove all of my children from the school and teach them myself! Remus, I am not Harry's guardian, but I would strongly advise you to do the same!"  
  
"Molly, be reasonable," Arthur coaxed tiredly. The truth was, he agreed with his wife's words to a certain extent, but he had a strong feeling that, regardless of the Malfoy boy's status as a Death Eater, his children were safer at Hogwarts than they would be at any other place.  
  
"Reasonable, Arthur?" Molly asked him coldly. "Tell me, is it reasonable that our children have been allowed to attend that school for months when there is a known Death Eater attending classes alongside them? It is one thing when the danger is unknown, but this man has knowingly put each and every student in the school in danger. I've a good mind to write the _Prophet_ about it!"  
  
"Molly, you will do nothing of the sort," Remus said firmly. "What you do with your own children is your decision, but no good can come of telling the _Prophet_ about the goings-on at the school. There would certainly be an inquiry, and we would risk too much exposure."  
  
"How dare you order me about, Remus!" Molly shouted. "You are supposed to be Harry's guardian, the closest thing he has to a parent. I find it unbelievable –"  
  
"Molly, think this through," Arthur pleaded. "Ginny has her O.W.L.s coming up in a little over a month. What chance will she stand if she leaves school now?"  
  
"I am more concerned for her life, Arthur," Molly replied. "I will not lose another child!" Her voice caught as she remembered the child she had already lost, then grew stronger as her resolve grew. "I will remove Ginny and Ron from the school if Draco Malfoy remains there, and that is final. Again, Remus, I would advise you to do the same with Harry, and he would be welcome at the Burrow."  
  
"Harry Potter will not be removed from Hogwarts," Dumbledore said simply. "He must continue the training he is receiving there. However, Molly, I will concede your point. Draco Malfoy must be asked to leave, although I despair of his chances to reconsider outside of school."  
  
"For what it is worth, Professor," Tonks spoke up from her place next to Remus, "I seriously doubt Malfoy will change his colors. He is too far in already, and look at his family."  
  
Dumbledore nodded sadly. "Very well. I will inform Severus of Mr. Malfoy's expulsion as soon as I return to school."  
  
Molly looked a bit surprised, but upon reflection, she wondered if this decision had not already been made, and the Headmaster was simply letting them know before the news got out. It seemed more likely the more she thought about it, but she decided not to voice her suspicions at this time. There were more important things to worry about.  
  
"Remus, don't you think it is time we check on Harry?" she asked. "I know that being with Ginny seems to do him good, but we need to make sure he is quite all right."  
  
"He seemed steady when I left the room," Remus replied, "but yes, Molly, I think you are right. I'd ask the rest of you to give me a few moments with him before we subject him to questioning, however."  
  
The others nodded, and Tonks placed her hand briefly on his shoulder before he got up from the table and left the room, taking a mug of tea with him.  
  


* * *

  
Harry and Ginny were not speaking when Lupin entered the room and set the mug of tea on the bedside chest. They were simply sitting on the bed, holding onto one another, and Lupin was startled to note that Harry seemed to be barely holding back a flood of tears, although is face was as set and as determined as ever. Over the past few weeks, he had become accustomed to Harry doing his best not to give into emotion, so this was a bit of a surprise. He wondered what his charge had seen to cause him so much distress, and wondered if it had to do with James and Lily.  
  
"Harry, Ginny?" Lupin asked softly, and they both looked at him. "Would it be all right if Harry and I talked for a few minutes?" He directed this question at both of them, knowing that it would be as much of a task to get Ginny to leave the room as it would be to get Harry to speak candidly with him.  
  
To his great surprise, Ginny nodded and kissed Harry on the cheek before she got up from the bed. She didn't say a word as she left the room, closing the door softly behind her. As she went back to the kitchen to look for the others, she hoped that Harry and Lupin would be able to work out whatever had come between them in the past months. Whether or not he would admit it, she knew it bothered Harry, and she thought he needed every bit of support he could get.  
  
"How are you, Harry?" Lupin asked, indicating that Harry should take the mug of tea on the chest.  
  
"I'm fine," Harry answered shortly.  
  
For once, Lupin rather wisely decided not to pursue this. He simply nodded and waited as Harry sipped his tea.  
  
"You've been avoiding me," Lupin noted matter-of-factly after Harry had set his mug aside. "Want to tell me why?"  
  
"I haven't been –" Harry began, but he stopped himself before his guardian could interrupt. "I just don't want to bloody _talk_ about everything," he admitted, his voice becoming slightly bitter again. "What does it matter how I feel about all this? I've got a job to do."  
  
The hardness in Harry's voice saddened Lupin. As before, he reminded himself how much was being asked of Harry and forced himself not to ask Harry again whether or not he was okay.  
  
"You do have a job to do," Lupin agreed. "But you know that you need all of us behind you to do it. No man is an island, Harry."  
  
Harry didn't respond to this. He had variations of the same statement time and again, and he knew that they spoke the truth – didn't he need the support of his friends just to break into Voldemort's mind? If that was any indication, he knew in his heart of hearts that Lupin was right, and he would need his friends if he was ever going to have a hope of beating Voldemort.  
  
"You know what I'm saying is true, don't you, Harry?" Lupin prodded when Harry had not spoken for a few moments.  
  
"I know," Harry finally admitted. "But I'm not sure how my friends are going to help me when I have to fight him. The prophecy is clear – it has to be me. Doesn't it?"  
  
"The prophecy is clear in that respect, yes," Lupin replied. "However, it never said that you were the only one who would fight at all, just that you would be the one with the power to finish the job. You are a strong fighter, but that can be taught, Harry, and I will tell you what I've told you before: you will not fight alone. You must understand that it is not only better, but it is absolutely necessary for you to allow your friends to help you."  
  
Harry was beginning, once again, to feel irritated with his guardian. "That's all fine and good, Moony, but that still doesn't mean I want to have a long talk every time I see something about my parents. I don't have time for that, don't you understand? I have a job to do, and I have to make sure – " He cut himself off before he said what he had seen, a fact that Lupin did not miss.  
  
"What do you need to make sure of, Harry?" he asked, leaning forward. Lupin wasn't sure why, but he thought that whatever Harry had been about to say was of vital importance. Was it something he had seen inside the Dark Lord's mind?  
  
"I need to make sure everybody's safe," Harry said quickly, looking down. He wasn't sure why he didn't want to tell anyone what he had heard...perhaps it was simply too terrible to even think about, much less speak about.  
  
"Everybody, Harry?" Lupin asked quietly, sure now that his charge was not telling the complete truth.  
  
Harry's irritation was quite gone as he looked into Lupin's face, which no longer held the infuriating expression of pity and concern that it had held for the past months. With a start, Harry realized that his guardian was talking to him more as an equal than as a parental figure. Perhaps it was this that allowed him, finally, to tell Lupin what he had seen inside Voldemort's head.  
  
For ten minutes, Harry spoke of Voldemort's childhood and his past crimes, of the dripping blood framing the earlier memories, of the spiked door, and finally, of the maps of London and the smell of seawater Harry had seen and experienced at the end of the last session. Lupin listened to all of it with great interest, not stopping him even once.  
  
"And then, right before I lost the connection, I heard Voldemort say he was coming after...after Ginny," Harry finished, his eyes wide with the first fear Lupin had seen there since the summer before.  
  
"Are you certain he was speaking of Ginny?" Lupin asked seriously. "What did he say? What were his exact words?"  
  
Harry closed his eyes, trying to remember precisely what Voldemort's words had been. This was a matter in which he could not afford mistakes. "He said, 'take her,'" Harry finally mumbled. "Then he told whoever he was talking to bring her to him."  
  
"Why are you so certain it was Ginny he was referring to?" Lupin asked reasonably. "There are quite a lot of girls in England."  
  
"I know that," Harry replied sharply, "but if Malfoy's been running around with an invisibility cloak all year, he would know about me and Ginny, wouldn't he?" He took a breath and then spoke his worst fear aloud. "It's just like Sirius. Voldemort knew at the end of last year that Sirius was the most important person in the world to me, and he made me think he took him so I would go to the Department of Mysteries. He knows he won't be able to do that now because I've got enough Occlumency to keep him out of my head, so he'll have to really take her. Voldemort knows I'd come after her, and he knows..."  
  
"What else does he know, Harry?" Lupin asked him, although he was almost certain he already knew the answer. He had heard James say almost the same thing about Lily nearly seventeen years before.  
  
"He knows I'm nothing without her," Harry said, swiping furiously at the one tear that finally escaped the confines of his lower eyelid. "He knows that without her, I don't have a chance in the world."


	37. A Plot Revealed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Harry's successful breach of Voldemort's mind, he is left with a fear unlike any he has ever felt, because he knows who the Dark Lord will target next. In the meantime, he impresses the professors with his dueling ability, and Ginny Weasley sets him straight on a few important points.

The spring air was chilly and damp in Lord Voldemort's seaside stronghold, and he had assembled almost all of his Death Eaters in preparation for what he had been informed was about to happen. His masked followers waited silently, and tension was thick in the air, for it seemed that not one among them knew the reason why they had been called together.  
  
They waited this way for more than ten minutes before a loud knock announced the arrival of the only two Death Eaters not already in the room. Every masked head turned toward the door, wondering what was about to happen.  
  
"Bring him in," Voldemort ordered in his highest, most cruel voice. The door opened and the missing Death Eaters proceeded up the center aisle towards the dais, one of them looking angry and proud, the other looking terrified, as though he thought his very life was about to end. Both were wearing black robes, but neither was wearing a mask.  
  
Narcissa Malfoy could barely conceal her gasp of surprise and horror when she saw her husband marching towards their Master, one hand clasped tightly around the forearm of her son, on whom there was no evidence of the traditional Malfoy pride. There was no color whatsoever in his face, and he kept his eyes cast downward as they approached Lord Voldemort. She wondered what had happened, for she could see no reason why Draco would be out of school.  
  
"So," Lord Voldemort hissed, and had it not been for the echoing acoustics of the dungeon chamber, no one would have been able to hear him from more than a few feet away. Narcissa Malfoy tried not to tremble as she noted that his voice was at its most dangerous.  
  
"I have brought him, my Lord," Lucius Malfoy said, shoving Draco roughly forward and taking his place on Voldemort's right side. There was no sign of pity on his face as he looked down at his son.  
  
"Young Mr. Malfoy," Voldemort said. "I would not have expected to see you in my presence on a Monday afternoon."  
  
Draco made no answer, but dropped to his knees on the hard floor, not even wincing as the rough stone cut into his skin through his robes. He kept his head and eyes carefully down, and Narcissa's heart leapt in terror at Voldemort's next words.  
  
"It seems you have failed in every aspect of your mission," the Dark Lord stated with no sign of mercy in his voice. "You have failed to bring me any useful information on Harry Potter, and now you have managed to be discovered. Neither of your primary directives has been met, and I find myself much disappointed. I expected better from a Malfoy."  
  
"For - Forgive me, My Lord," Draco stammered softly, never raising his gaze. The panic was evident in his voice, and as every assembled Death Eater knew from first-hand experience, there was good reason for it.  
  
"Lord Voldemort does not forgive," said the cruel voice, and Draco heard the swish of a long cloak as the Dark Lord rose from his chair and withdrew his wand. " _Crucio_!" he cried, looking on dispassionately as the sixteen-year-old dropped the rest of the way to the stone floor, screaming and writhing in agony as every nerve in his body seared with white-hot pain.  
  
Narcissa was fortunate that she was wearing her Death Eater's mask so no one saw the tears dripping from her chin to the front of her black robes as she watched her only son being tortured.  
  
It seemed ages before Voldemort lifted the curse. Draco did not move from the floor, instead positioning himself so that he was lying prostrate at the feet of his tormenter.  
  
"I have been told that you did not discover the reason behind Potter's trips to London," Voldemort hissed. "I have also been told that your invisibility cloak has been confiscated."  
  
At these words, Draco could not help lifting his head a bit in surprise. He did not remember having his cloak taken from him, of course, as Tonks had modified his memory shortly after doing so.  
  
"Ah, yes, Severus Snape has kept me well informed of your activities, young Malfoy," Voldemort said, and then looked around at the masked figures. "Snape!" he called. "Come forward."  
  
One of the assembled figures made his way to the dais, and as Draco heard him approach, he swore under his breath. He should have known that it was Snape who had been reporting his moves to the Dark Lord…how could he have been so stupid?  
  
"You surely did not believe that I would leave one as young as yourself in complete charge of such a vital mission? No, no, Malfoy. I used you only because it would have been quite unwise to put my spy in such a vulnerable position."  
  
Draco's body began to shake as Voldemort questioned the Potions Master. "Tell me, Snape, about your student's activities since the start of school."  
  
"Malfoy has continually engaged in very sloppy attempts at carrying out his mission," Snape replied, his voice as oily as ever. "He did not report his findings in a timely manner when he did recover any information of import, and after his cloak was confiscated and his memory altered, he made no discernable attempts to continue his mission. He refused all offers of assistance."  
  
"As I suspected," Voldemort replied coldly. "The information you have brought to my attention has been of much higher value, even while you maintained your cover as a member of Dumbledore's 'Order.' You will be rewarded." He turned his attention back the young man on the floor before him.  
  
"Stand, Malfoy!" he ordered. "Stand and face your Master. You have been placed under a Memory Charm, I see, and for any Professor to do such a thing to a Hogwarts student must mean you did indeed stumble, however clumsily, onto some valuable information."  
  
Draco rose shakily to his feet, looking at his Master for the first time since entering the dungeon. Voldemort spoke no words, but waved his wand slowly in a complicated motion before pointing it at Draco's forehead. Narcissa Malfoy gave another shaky gasp as her son began to speak.  
  
"Potter…" he stammered almost incoherently. "Breaking in…your mind…"  
  
The rage was apparent on Lord Voldemort's face as he immediately understood the information he had been given. He flicked his wand again, strengthening the memory recovery spell with utter disregard for the permanent damage he was causing to his young follower's mind. "When," he hissed.  
  
"Twice a week," Draco said, his voice now airy, as if he were under the Imperious Curse. "Since start…term…" His voice trailed off again as his eyes rolled. Narcissa Malfoy was no longer trying to conceal her sobs as Voldemort took away everything that had made her son the young man that he was.  
  
"So Potter has been training in Legilimency," Voldemort stated, his voice laced with his most malicious tone. "He has been attempting to breach my shields, and he has done so undetected. He must have been training all year for this task." The rage in his voice was apparent as he continued. "What else, young Malfoy?" Again, he flicked his wand, and Draco's eyes rolled all the way back into his head as he answered.  
  
"Dueling…" he said, before he began to laugh. "Training…" He was now laughing maniacally, the horrid sound of it echoing off the chamber's stone walls and ceiling.  
  
"Your most vital task was to inform me of Potter's progress," Voldemort said, "and I find that you have not only failed, but that due to your stupidity my own defenses may have been breached. I have no use for a follower who would let such a thing happen."  
  
Draco continued to laugh, and Narcissa Malfoy's world went into slow motion as her husband looked on coldly and Voldemort raised his wand.  
  
" _Avada Kedavra_!" he cried, and the insane laughter was cut off abruptly as Draco Malfoy crumpled to the floor, his bloodshot eyes wide open and unseeing.  
  
"No!" Narcissa whispered through her tears. Although several Death Eaters around her heard her cry, not one move was made to comfort her from the loss of her only child.  
  
"Remove the body," Voldemort said without emotion as he returned to his seat. "Snape," he ordered, looking to the Potions Master, who was standing stiffly, looking down at the body of the young man who had once been his most favored student. "You must find out what Dumbledore knows. It may be necessary to speed up our plans."  
  
Snape nodded and turned to leave the room.  
  
"Snape!" Voldemort called after him, and the man turned back toward the dais. "I will not tolerate another failure."  
  
"There will be no more failure, my Lord," Snape said quietly, and walked quickly out of the room.  
  
"You have all been reminded of the seriousness I place on each of your missions," Voldemort proclaimed, looking at his followers. "Go, and do not fail. Our plans will be carried out before the month is through."  
  
The Death Eaters dispersed silently, sobered by what they had witnessed, although most of them felt nothing but a stab of fear as they realized that they, themselves, would suffer the same fate as the Malfoy boy if they failed their Master. Lucius Malfoy remained at his Master's side, and not one sign of emotion showed on his face as two masked men removed the body of his son from the dungeon, taking it, he knew, to be burned.  
  
Narcissa Malfoy did not immediately leave the chamber, but turned her masked face toward the dais, hoping desperately for some sign of humanity, some sign of emotion, from her husband. She found none, and if anyone could have seen her face they would have seen an expression of utter grief and regret as she slowly turned and left her husband behind.  
  
 _I could have stopped him_ , she thought, not stopping the tears as they dripped steadily from her previously cold blue eyes. _I could have stopped him killing my son, just as Lily Evans Potter did sixteen years ago. I could have, but I did not_.  
  
As she waited her turn to floo away from the seaside headquarters of Lord Voldemort, she knew she would never return. She stepped out of the grate in Malfoy Manor, and stripped her Death Eater's vestments from her body as though they were burning. Without another glance at them, she threw them into the fire and went to her room to dress.  
  
She left Malfoy Manor with two regrets: that she had not taken Draco and gone months, years before, and that she had not had the strength of Lily Potter, the strength to die for her son. Even in the midst of her grief, she turned towards the one place she knew she could be safe from her son's murderers, the one place in which she knew she would be allowed to mourn. After walking down the lane in front of what had once been her home, she found the secure and hidden apparation point just outside the boundaries of the wards, and with a loud 'pop,' she headed towards Hogwarts and the only man her Master had ever feared.  
  


* * *

  
"Good morning, Harry," Albus Dumbledore greeted him as he walked through the office door for his usual Tuesday lesson with the Headmaster.  
  
"Good morning, sir," Harry replied respectfully, setting his bag on the floor and sitting down in his usual chair in front of Dumbledore's desk.  
  
The Headmaster peered closely at Harry, and he did not like what he saw. Harry's eyes were bloodshot and there were black bags under them. His whole body seemed to radiate exhaustion and worry, and although Lupin had told Dumbledore about everything that Harry had said on Saturday after his second successful use of Legilimency against Voldemort, he decided to speak to his student about it in person, and possibly peer into Harry's mind himself.  
  
"Harry," he began, sitting behind his desk as he usually did and steepling his fingers under his chin. "Regretfully, I believe we must discuss what you saw in Lord Voldemort's mind once again. Remus Lupin informed me of what you told him, but I find that I am never quite as happy with second-hand information. I quite prefer to hear news directly from the source wherever possible, do you not agree?"  
  
Harry nodded, not in the least surprised. Actually, he would have been surprised if the Headmaster had not wanted him to go through the memories again, and he was truthfully eager to do so. He hoped very much that Dumbledore would be able to discern some plan, something concrete from what he had seen.  
  
Just as he had with Lupin, Harry began to describe everything he had seen while inside Voldemort's mind. Unlike Lupin, however, Dumbledore did not listen quietly. He nodded several times, and when Harry began to describe the maps and the plans he had seen, the Headmaster stopped him.  
  
"You say you saw a map of London in Voldemort's mind?" he asked ponderingly. "Tell me, Harry, did you happen to notice which part of London was featured on the map?"  
  
Harry screwed up his face in thought, but all he could remember of the map was the long blue line that represented the Thames River and innumerable scribbly-looking lines which he supposed represented roads. "I don't know, sir," he finally confessed. "All I can remember is seeing the river running through the middle, and there was a red star…and other than that, all I can remember is lots of roads." His voice took on a frustrated edge. "I don't know much about London. The Dursleys hardly ever let me go outside Surrey, so I wouldn't really recognize much."  
  
"Quite all right, Harry," Dumbledore said, but Harry could tell he was disappointed. "Please continue with what you saw."  
  
Harry thought back once again to the flashes he had seen. "I saw…a blueprint, isn't that what it's called, those drawings of buildings that show all the rooms?" For some reason, he was finding it hard to remember the details of things like that lately. It seemed that the more imbedded he got in Wizarding society, the less in tune he was to the Muggle world.  
  
Dumbledore nodded, worry and understanding coming into his eyes as he began to make connections.  
  
"A blueprint of the Ministry of Magic," Harry continued. "I knew it because the rooms were labeled. I saw the Department of Mysteries, where we were last…" His voice trailed off at the memory of the last time he had visited the Ministry, the night that Sirius had died.  
  
"The Department of Mysteries," Dumbledore repeated contemplatively, seeming oblivious to Harry's discomfort. "A place of great fascination, to be certain," he continued before looking up at Harry, who was surprised at the sudden fierce light flashing within the Headmaster's eyes. "Harry, what else did you see?"  
  
"I saw a piece of parchment," Harry answered promptly, for this detail had been bothering him. "It had Imelda Arnold's name written across the top, but it was blank after that."  
  
"Imelda Arnold?" Dumbledore asked. "You are certain, Harry?"  
  
"Yeah," Harry answered. "Yeah, it was definitely her name. It was written in large letters, and it was fancy, like the top of the letters I've gotten from the Ministry before."  
  
"There was no other writing on this parchment?" Dumbledore asked.  
  
"Nothing else, Sir," Harry replied.  
  
"Very well," Dumbledore said. "Was there anything else you can remember, Harry?"  
  
Harry gulped, knowing this was the time to talk to Dumbledore about what Voldemort had said about taking Ginny…but, as before with Lupin, he found it hard to repeat what he had heard, hard to admit that he had actually heard it.  
  
"There was a smell," he said suddenly, just remembering. "It smelled…salty, I think, and wet."  
  
"Salty and wet?" Dumbledore asked. "Like seawater, perhaps?"  
  
"Could have been," Harry said. "I've never really been to the sea, unless you count that one night we spent in that cabin before Hagrid came and told me I was a wizard. But I don't really remember the smell."  
  
The Headmaster leaned forward, gazing once again at Harry. "Is there anything else you can remember about that smell, or a glimpse of a room or a place?"  
  
"There was a room," Harry confirmed. "It was round, and it had sort of a platform in the middle of it." He was surprised that he had not remembered the smell and the room before, but then, he had been so worried about protecting Ginny that he hadn't given as much thought to anything else.  
  
"Harry, this is of utmost importance," Dumbledore said. "Anything you can tell me about that place would be most helpful. You see, Voldemort himself is the Secret-Keeper for his stronghold, and this may be our only hope for finding the location. I am sure you can understand why this information would be so vital."  
  
Harry nodded. "There was nothing else, sir, but when I go in again…" he trailed off. He had been about to ask Dumbledore if he could attempt another break-in that very day, so anxious was he to find out anything else they could use to stop Voldemort from carrying out his plans, but he knew without asking that the Headmaster would never allow him to attempt Legilimency without the others. He had often cautioned Harry against this very thing, reminding him that it was the love and loyalty of his friends which had allowed him to breach Voldemort's senses…for Voldemort could have no possible defense for a power he neither recognized nor understood.  
  
"I am afraid, Harry, that we have reached the end of our ability to safely attempt to breach Voldemort's mind," Dumbledore said seriously, sitting back in his chair and surveying a spot somewhere over Harry's shoulder.  
  
"You mean," Harry began, hardly believing what he had heard, "that we're not going to do it again?" He jumped up in his agitation and was about to begin speaking rather more loudly than usual when Dumbledore held up a hand to stop him.  
  
"Harry, you no doubt have heard that Draco Malfoy has been asked to leave Hogwarts." He stated this rather than asked, because after so many years of being near the students, he knew that the gossip and rumor mills at Hogwarts were always quite well intact.  
  
"Yeah, I know, but -" Harry was about to ask Dumbledore what Malfoy's obviously-deserved expulsion had to do with his Legilimency attempts when the answer hit him, clear as day. "You think Draco Malfoy knew what we were doing when we went to London?"  
  
"Draco Malfoy," Dumbledore began sadly, "chose a path that one so young should never have been offered. When he took the insignia of the Dark Lord, I doubt he understood the seriousness of his obligation."  
  
"He knew," Harry growled. The very thought of Draco Malfoy filled him with an anger he could not completely understand, and the fact that he had been correct about Draco's status as a Death Eater was little comfort.  
  
"I believe that few are actually prepared for the requirements of becoming a follower of Lord Voldemort, Harry. Be that as it may, however, we are now forced to assume that the Dark Lord is aware of your attempts on his mind, even if he is not yet aware of your success. The consequences to his awareness of your success would be disastrous, and it is a something we simply cannot risk."  
  
Harry sat back down, stunned. How was he going to know how to protect Ginny if he was not to be allowed to perform Legilimency against Voldemort again? He said the first thing that came to his disgruntled mind. "If I ever see Malfoy again, he's going to regret the day he was born," he grumbled, just barely loudly enough for Dumbledore to hear him.  
  
"Harry, how many times have I told you that you must not dwell upon revenge as your motivation?" Dumbledore asked sadly, peering at his student. "I do understand your anger. It is quite justifiable, but you must not let it rule you. You must not, Harry!" The headmaster's voice became a bit strained, and Harry looked up to see the old wizard looking as sad and as old as Harry had ever seen him.  
  
"Professor?" Harry asked when Dumbledore had not spoken for a few moments.  
  
"I received word late last night, Harry," Dumbledore said, his voice filled with regret deeper than Harry had ever heard from him before. "Draco Malfoy was killed yesterday afternoon at the hands of the one he called 'Master.'"  
  
Harry felt the color drain from his face, and he searched his mind for something appropriate to say. He could not honestly say he was sorry, as he had wished for this very event on more than one occasion. Still, though, to hear of the murder of someone his age, of someone he knew…to hear that Voldemort had killed a boy of only sixteen, one of his own followers, at that…  
  
"What about his father?" Harry asked. "I thought Lucius Malfoy was right up there with Voldemort. Surely…"  
  
"Lucius Malfoy did nothing to prevent the death of his only child," Dumbledore interrupted with a trace of something like bitterness in his voice. "He has spent so long dwelling in the darkness that his heart has forgotten what it was like to feel love, if indeed it ever knew. Draco was nothing more to him than another Death Eater by the end."  
  
Harry was silent for a moment, trying to understand, but he found that he could not. Ever since his entry into the Wizarding world, he had lived with the knowledge that his parents had died in order to save his life, and though at times he had found that knowledge almost too much to bear, he had never once had he doubted their love for him. With a start, Harry realized that Voldemort had taken Draco's father away from him just as surely as he had taken James Potter fifteen years before. He could not bring himself to be sorry that Malfoy was dead, but all the same, he felt the rage for the man who called himself 'Voldemort' simmer just a bit closer to the surface.  
  
He looked back to the Headmaster suddenly, a new thought now inside his head. "How do you know all of this, sir?" he asked. "Snape? If Snape was there, why didn't he try to stop it?"  
  
"Professor Snape was unable to intervene," Dumbledore said, correcting his student almost automatically, but Harry couldn't help but notice that he had very carefully avoided saying that Snape himself had brought any information about Malfoy.  
  
"It wasn't Snape who told you all this, was it?" Harry asked shrewdly. After the entire year of meeting with Dumbledore at least once per week, he had grown able to read the Headmaster's voice and body language better than any of the other students and most of the professors, and he knew without a doubt that he was hiding something.  
  
"Harry," Dumbledore said, his voice weary, "that is a matter we will discuss on another day. For the present, I would like to speak about you."  
  
"Me?" Harry asked, wondering at the sudden change in subject.  
  
"You've been worried," the headmaster stated simply. It was a massive understatement and they both knew it, but Dumbledore felt that it would be wisest not to alert Harry to the level of their concern. Remus Lupin had told him that Harry believed Voldemort to be after Ginny, and both men had observed quite well just how much he cared for her.  
  
Harry knew that the time had come to talk to Dumbledore about Voldemort's plans for Ginny. He had to keep her safe. "I heard Voldemort say that he was going to take Ginny," he said quickly, trying unsuccessfully to keep all emotion out of his voice when the truth was actually that the very thought of it put him nearly in a panic.  
  
"Did he mention her by name?" Dumbledore inquired, already knowing the answer.  
  
"No, but who else could he mean? If he wants me, there's no better way to do it. I already told Lupin, I…" Harry trailed off at the look of understanding on the headmaster's face, remembering that Lupin had already disclosed everything he had said.  
  
"I believe that we must consider it a serious possibility that Voldemort was speaking of Miss Weasley," Dumbledore said, and in spite of himself, Harry breathed a sigh of relief. At least the danger was being taken seriously and he could count on some help in protecting her. "She is safe enough within the walls of Hogwarts, and rest assured that we will do everything we can do to protect her. Our resources are formidable."  
  
"I need to go in one more time," Harry said with determination. "I need to find out what his plans are so I can protect her, so I can make sure that he doesn't get to her."  
  
Dumbledore was both impressed and sad to hear the strength and resolve in Harry's voice, and once again reflected upon how much the boy had grown in the past year. "I am afraid we cannot risk that, Harry, as much as we would like to obtain more information. What you have told us thus far has been quite useful, but I cannot allow you to risk using Legilimency again when the probability is so high that Voldemort will be expecting you to do so."  
  
"But Tonks put a memory charm on Malfoy," Harry argued, his voice growing louder. "He can't have told Voldemort anything."  
  
"Memory charms can be broken," Dumbledore said heavily, and once again, Harry had the distinct impression that the Headmaster was not telling him everything.  
  
"But we've worked so hard on this, and I tried and tried for months to get into his head! Now that I have and I've found something important, you want to stop me going again?" Harry was growing livid.  
  
"Harry, the circumstances have changed," Dumbledore said calmly. "Please sit down."  
  
Harry didn't even realize that he had been standing, but he was in no mood to sit. He began pacing Dumbledore's office in agitation, realizing that his worry for Ginny was causing him to act irrationally, but not really caring.  
  
"I can't believe this!" he shouted, resisting with great difficulty the urge to begin throwing Dumbledore's possessions around the room as he had done the previous spring. "All that work, and for nothing!"  
  
"Not for nothing, Harry," Dumbledore said, his voice still irritatingly calm. "I am afraid that you will need this skill at a later time, though I frankly wish that I could say you would never use it again."  
  
"If I can't save her, it's for nothing," Harry said, his voice laced with bitterness and frustration.  
  
"We must not lose sight of the other possibilities, Harry," Dumbledore reminded him. "It may be Ginny Weasley who is in danger, but there is also the chance that he was referring to someone else."  
  
"And we can't know that because you won't let me go in again," Harry said, breathing heavily. He stopped his pacing to look directly at Dumbledore. "Once more," he said, but there was no pleading in his tone. "Once more, to find out what his plans are."  
  
"Harry," Dumbledore said, "we do have one other source of possible information. Would you allow me to find out what I can from that source before you attempt something so dangerous? You have my word that, should that information prove to be inadequate, we will make one more attempt to use Legilimency to get what we need. In the meantime, we will give Miss Weasley the highest level of protection we can offer her, particularly when she is outside the castle."  
  
Harry sat back down in his chair, willing himself to calm down. The rational part of his mind knew that what Dumbledore was suggesting was perfectly reasonable, but he was finding hard to ignore the voice in his head, a voice full of rage, which was suggesting that the Order was once again using him as no more than a pawn, a game piece to be manipulated.  
  
"Harry," Dumbledore said, knowing exactly what was going on in his student's mind at that moment. "I am asking you to place your trust in me."  
  
Harry stared at the headmaster for a moment, and the battle going on inside his head was evident in his eyes. It could not have been clearer than he no longer knew whether or not he could trust Dumbledore, and he tried to ignore the obvious pain in his mentor's eyes as he thought about what he should do. Finally, he nodded stiffly, turned, and left the office without waiting for permission.  
  


* * *

  
"The three D's! Remember the three D's!" Hermione hissed at Ron while they waited with the other members of their class who had reached seventeen years of age.  
  
"Right, the three D's," Ron repeated, his skin carrying the slightly green tinge that it had had before his first Quidditch match.  
  
The sixth-year students at Hogwarts had been studying apparation since Christmas, spending one evening a week in the company of a cheerful old wizard, popping with various degrees of success into and out of hoops. Harry had learned along with the rest of them, but like a few other students, his seventeenth birthday would not come until the summer, so he would not be taking the test with the rest of them.  
  
After Harry had wished Hermione and Ron good luck on their Apparition tests, he walked slowly through the castle, enjoying the warm, early summer weather even as his mind remained as alert as it had for the past two weeks since he had last broken into Voldemort's mind.  
  
 _Ginny's safe for now_ , he told himself firmly. _She's in the library studying for her O.W.L.'s. Going there right now will only distract her_! He repeated this mantra to himself as he went to the owlery to visit Hedwig, then again as he walked his favorite path around the lake, thinking of all he still had to do.  
  
He killed time until lunch and perked up slightly after eating with Ginny in the Great Hall, but he was now used to the feeling of extreme unease that now followed him whenever they weren't together. It was enough that Harry probably would have gone to study with her for the afternoon, distraction or not, but he couldn't. Today, he had been asked to meet Kingsley and some others in their classroom for what the Auror called "real dueling practice."  
  
Harry reminded himself once more that Ginny was safe in the library before opening the door to their usual meeting place and being greeted by not only Kingsley, but Remus Lupin, Mad-Eye Moody, Tonks, and Dumbledore himself.  
  
"Wotcher, Harry!" Tonks said cheerfully as he came into the room, and though her tone was light, Harry could not help but notice that all of the adults besides Dumbledore and Kingsley seemed particularly determined and serious this afternoon. Even Lupin seemed stiffer than usual when he gave Harry the traditional one-armed hug, and Mad-Eye Moody looked positively alarming.  
  
Only Kingsley and Dumbledore seemed to be themselves that day. "Good afternoon, Harry," the Auror said in his deep voice. "As you have no doubt noticed, I have brought in a few people to help us with our practice today."  
  
Harry nodded. Was he going to be expected to duel with all of these professors at once? He had seen Lupin, Moody and Tonks duel and the Ministry of Magic, and he knew that he would be no contest for Dumbledore. In spite of the confidence that had been growing in his chest all spring, he found it ridiculous that he might be expected to best anyone in the room in a duel, much less more than one of them at a time.  
  
Lupin seemed to understand Harry's discomfort and said quickly, "Don't worry, Harry, it won't be five-on-one right away. I must admit, all of us have been curious to see what you are able to do in a duel, and if I understood Kingsley correctly, we will begin by challenging you to individual duels with each one of us."  
  
"That's correct," Kingsley confirmed. "Harry has grown used to dueling only with me and his classmates in Defense Against the Dark Arts and the D.A., and if he is to be prepared for real dueling, he must be able to adapt to his opponent's style."  
  
"Okay," Harry said, screwing up his determination and hoping he would be able to perform well under observation, "who's first?"  
  
Tonks couldn't suppress a grin at the defiant tone in Harry's voice, knowing that it was a cover for the nervousness he was probably feeling at the idea of dueling in front of his professors and friends.  
  
"I'll go first, kiddo," she answered, rolling up the sleeves of her black work robes and pulling her wand from her pocket.  
  
As Harry followed suit, Remus couldn't help but notice that he hadn't cringed when Tonks had called him 'kiddo,' just had Sirius had once called him. He wondered if that had anything to do with Tonks's status as Sirius's cousin of if Harry had simply gotten over that particular issue. He made a mental note to ask Tonks about it later.  
  
Before he could think much more on it, Tonks threw her first spell at Harry, who had seemed to be waiting on it.  
  
" _Protego_!" Harry yelled, sweeping his free hand across his body and producing a solid-looking golden shield. Lupin and Moody looked on in astonishment. They had never seen a shield so strong from a student or even an Auror, and neither of them failed to notice that Harry had conjured this powerful shield without his wand and was holding it in place with apparently no effort at all, watching intently as Tonks's jelly-legs jinx bounced harmlessly off of it and she dodged quickly.  
  
Before Tonks had time to send another offensive spell, however, she cried out and slumped to the ground, and the attention of everyone in the room snapped to her. It seemed that she had been hit by a Stunner, but no one had heard anything from Harry.  
  
As Kingsley revived Tonks, Lupin and Moody turned slowly to face Harry, astonishment on both of their faces. Harry was holding his wand aloft, his shield still golden and glimmering before him, and it could not have been clearer that he had cast the Stunner soundlessly at almost the exact same time as he had conjured his shield with his wand-free hand.  
  
Tonks broke the silence, rubbing her backside ruefully as she stood up, "Blimey, Shacklebolt," she said, laughing a little. "You might have told me he could do that."  
  
"You should have been prepared for anything," Kingsley responded a bit sternly, looking at the young woman who was one of his less-experienced Aurors.  
  
"I was ready for him to come at me fast, and I was ready for the wandless magic and the soundless, but I've never met a wizard who could do both at the same time," Tonks said in her own defense. "It's remarkable, isn't it?"  
  
"Whether it is remarkable or not is not the issue, Tonks," Moody said roughly. "Fact is, he can do it, and if we're to prepare him for the real thing, we've got to react to it the way Voldemort or one of the Death Eaters would."  
  
"I know that, Moody, I'm just saying I was surprised," Tonks replied matter-of-factly. Everyone in the Order was used to Moody's rough manner, and few let it bother them.  
  
Harry watched this exchange without a word, and he did not see the discreet signal Kingsley gave Lupin as Moody and Tonks argued on.  
  
" _Expelliarmus_!" Lupin cried from behind Harry's back.  
  
Harry was not expecting this attack, but as Shacklebolt had done the same thing to him on a number of occasions, he was prepared. He dropped into a roll quickly, fired off a spell at his guardian as he jumped back to his feet, and immediately raised his shield wandlessly when he was fully upright.  
  
If Lupin was surprised at his speed, he gave no indication as he began a full-strength duel against his charge. He spared Harry nothing, for even though he had no desire to hurt him, he wanted him to be ready for whatever he might have to face in the future.  
  
Lupin was an expert at soundless magic just as Kingsley was, and much of the duel progressed without shouts of spells, only interrupted by sound when Harry cast something wandlessly. He was still not able to produce soundless magic without his wand.  
  
To Tonks, Moody, Kingsley and Dumbledore, it was like watching a fierce dance as the two circled one another, throwing curses and jinxes, raising shields and using advanced feinting and dodging moves. The two moved in a blur, and it seemed as though they were fairly well matched. To be certain, Harry was much faster than Lupin, but Lupin had the advantage of completely soundless magic and a more advanced repertoire of offensive spells.  
  
At one point, Lupin managed to graze Harry with a strong leg-locker curse, and he couldn't resist shouting, "great move, Harry!" as Harry simultaneously used his wand to remove the curse and used his wand-free hand to maintain his shield while he recovered. The whole process took no more than a split second, and the professors in the room knew that Harry was at a much higher level of defensive magic than any other student, including the seventh-years studying for their N.E.W.T.s the following week.  
  
As Lupin and Harry continued dueling at lightning speed, Kingsley nodded almost imperceptibly to Tonks, who jumped into the duel, now fully aware of the range of Harry's abilities.  
  
Finding himself in a two-on-one situation with two experienced duelers, Harry stepped up his speed and the dance continued. Tonks was easier to deal with as she was not a master of soundless magic, and he had a split-second advantage in protecting himself when she threw spells. However, the combination of Lupin and Tonks was difficult, and two minutes into the duel, Harry could feel himself beginning to tire. Rivulets of sweat streamed down his face and he could feel himself becoming damp under his robes. His breath came in gasps as he continued dodging, throwing jinxes, and maintaining his shields.  
  
Lupin and Tonks seemed to move like an experienced team, and after the duel was over, Harry wondered how much time they had been spending with one another outside of Order business. They reminded him somewhat of himself and Ginny, able to anticipate the other's moves and react to them without speaking.  
  
They had been dueling for close to ten minutes, all three of them becoming red, sweaty and out of breath, when a break finally occurred. Using a move he had never tried before, Harry let his shield go and dropped into a roll, avoiding curses thrown at him from both sides. As he was rolling, he soundlessly shot a full body-bind curse at Lupin, who was not expecting Harry to cast anything new until he came out of the roll.  
  
Lupin's arms and legs snapped together and he fell to the ground, his eyes registering not only surprise but fierce pride.  
  
The remainder of the duel between Harry and Tonks was short, as the young Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor, while well-trained and in top physical condition, was no match for Harry's ability to do magic with both hands. Harry obtained her wand less than a minute later, ending the duel.  
  
Even Kingsley seemed impressed. "That was excellent, Harry," he congratulated his student.  
  
"You have indeed come far," Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling for the first time in quite a while. He was especially pleased with Harry's progress in wandless magic, but he decided to discuss that with his student in private. He still did not want anyone else to find out about the connection between Harry's wand and Voldemort's. He trusted everyone in the room implicitly, but he had learned over the years that information could be leaked in the most unintentional ways, and he preferred that this particular bit stay as secret as possible.  
  
"Good work, Potter," Moody growled, "but can you maintain that level of defense when you are up against more than two people?"  
  
"Harry will not be fighting alone under any circumstance," Lupin interjected.  
  
"Be that as it may, Remus, Potter may find himself in a situation where everyone else is dead or incapacitated."  
  
"Moody has a point, but another thing we must work on is Harry's ability to fight in tandem with others at or below his own skill."  
  
"The term's about to end," Harry protested, though he was keep to advance his dueling ability as much as possible. "I've still got to go back to the Dursley's, haven't I?" He looked hopefully at Lupin and then Dumbledore.  
  
It was Lupin who answered. "Yes, Harry," he said regretfully. "The blood magic will be negated when you come of age, but until then, you will need to return to Little Whinging one last time."  
  
"That does not mean, however," Dumbledore broke in, "that you will be unable to practice until your seventeenth birthday. We will make arrangements for your training to continue while you are staying with your aunt and uncle. We will work something out."  
  
Harry nodded, and then took a deep breath. He had thought of almost nothing else for the past two weeks, and it did not seem as though Dumbledore had managed to find any more information.  
  
"Professors?" he asked hesitantly.  
  
"Yes, Harry?" Tonks responded automatically, having become quite used to her title over the past year.  
  
"I want to have another go at Voldemort's mind," he stated with no sign of fear or worry in his voice. "I've got to find out what he has planned."  
  
Lupin glanced at Dumbledore. Both men had known that this request would come up sooner or later.  
  
"Harry, the amount of risk involved would make another attempt extremely dangerous," Dumbledore said. "We have received some helpful information from our source, and I assure you, everything that can be done is being done."  
  
"What about Ginny?" Harry demanded, his voice growing hard. "School's almost over, and she'll be out of the castle for the whole summer! I won't be with her, Dumbledore won't, Mr. Weasley has to work and Mrs. Weasley has all that other Order stuff she has to do. What about her?"  
  
"We will see that Miss Weasley is protected, Harry," Dumbledore said.  
  
"What about you?" Harry demanded, rounding to glare at Lupin. "You think it's too dangerous too?"  
  
Lupin looked at the blazing determination in his charge's eyes and was reminded of James Potter so forcibly that he took a moment to recover. "Harry, I…" he said, trailing off and looking at Dumbledore. "Do you really think this is the best course of action?" he asked, looking back at the dark-haired mirror image of his best friend.  
  
Harry was startled to be asked his opinion. He had expected Lupin to immediately side with Dumbledore, saying it was not worth the risk to try to use Legilimency against the Dark Lord when their plan may have been revealed. Harry strove to make his voice sound as reasonable and adult as possible when he answered, "Yes, I think this is the best course of action. I understand there's risk involved, but there's nothing happening these days that doesn't involve risk. If I can find the stronghold, or figure out what their plans are…" he trailed off, thinking of his real purpose in wanting go back. "I just think it is worth the risk. After all, he can hardly kill me from that distance, right?"  
  
Lupin nodded, his expression a combination of troubled and proud.  
  
"Potter makes a good point," Moody grunted.  
  
"But, Remus," Tonks said, her face pale and still shimmering with sweat from the earlier duel, "can we really take that kind of risk with Harry, considering everything he has to do before the end?"  
  
"Harry has the ability to do this, he wants to, he believes it is important and all of us will be there for him, just as we always are," Lupin said. "There is risk involved to be certain, but with the right precautions, I believe that it could be made safe enough."  
  
Kingsley abstained from the conversation, believing that his role in Harry's development was far removed from matters of Legilimency and strategy. He did notice, however, that Harry had begun to have an almost maniacal look in his eyes, a wild hope that he would get his way.  
  
That look, however, was short lived.  
  
"Harry, I am sorry, but you have already received my final word on the matter," Dumbledore said, rising from his seat around the small table. "I am not willing to risk Lord Voldemort discovering your presence. It is not worth any amount of information you might uncover. If you have any more questions on the matter, I will be happy to respond to them at a later time." Dumbledore surveyed the table seriously before turning and sweeping slowly out of the room, closing the door softly behind him.  
  
Harry turned to Lupin, his eyes blazing. "Moony!" he said. "If the rest of you would be there, I'm sure I still could…"  
  
Lupin shook his head slowly. "Harry, I agree with you, but Dumbledore will have his reasons, and he is the Head of the Order of the Phoenix…"  
  
"I don't care if he's the bloody Minister of Magic!" Harry shouted, all his frustration and fear for Ginny coming through the adrenaline that was still left over from his duel. "He doesn't understand what it was like inside Voldemort's head. He doesn't understand what's coming, and I don't think he cares!"  
  
"Harry, I'll talk to him, see if I can at least find out why he is so adamantly against this, all right?" Lupin asked reasonably. "Can you at least let me do that?"  
  
Harry took a deep breath. For the first time ever, Lupin had taken up for Harry, had said that he could do something dangerous, that he was able to make a real difference. That fact did a lot to calm Harry down. However, he was not ready to concede the point totally.  
  
" _Today_ , Moony," Harry said, standing and preparing to leave the room. "Talk to him today. I won't wait much longer than that."  
  


* * *

  
After leaving the Order members behind, Harry walked slowly back to Gryffindor Tower, exhausted to the very core of his being and as angry at Dumbledore as he had ever been. No matter how many ways he tried to explain it to himself, he could not justify Dumbledore's absolute refusal to allow him to gain entrance to Voldemort's mind just once more, to find out what he could about the Dark Lords plans.  
  
No matter what anyone else said, Harry was absolutely convinced that the "her" Voldemort had referred to had been Ginny. The pieces fit perfectly together. Voldemort was going to use Ginny to get to Harry, just as he had planted the vision of Sirius to get him to the Department of Mysteries almost exactly one year before.  
  
"This time, he's going to have to take her for real," Harry said to himself, fear and rage trickling up and down his spine like spiders. "He knows he can't trick me again; I know too much Occlumency for that. He'll take her…I've got to know when, I've got to know where…"  
  
Harry continued to mutter to himself as he automatically detoured through several secret passages he had come to know over his years at Hogwarts. He did not worry about being overheard. On a Saturday with weather like this, everyone was either outside enjoying themselves or in the library or dormitories studying for O.W.L.'s and N.E.W.T.'s.  
  
"Malfoy," Harry muttered as he climbed a steep stone staircase that connected the fourth floor with the corridor that held the portrait of the Fat Lady. "Stupid git. He deserved what he got."  
  
Harry felt guilty even saying such a thing to himself. Did anyone really deserve to die at the hands of Voldemort? "If anyone did, Malfoy did. Bloody, stinking Slytherin…" he grumbled, kicking a loose stone on one of the stairs.  
  
He finally reached the top of the long staircase, still muttering to himself and trying to sort out everything that had happened and to figure out what he needed to do next. Just as he was about to push through the tapestry leading to the seventh-floor corridor, a familiar voice startled him out of his reverie.  
  
"You'll want to stop talking to yourself, love, or people might think you're touched in the head."  
  
Harry turned around so quickly that he felt slightly dizzy. There, sitting with her back up against the stone wall, was Ginny. Her Transfiguration text was open on her lap and her other books were stacked next to her in a leaning tower of leather bindings. From the look of her, Harry guessed that she had been there for quite some time. Her face was smudged with ink and her eyes looked tired. The two feathered quills stuck into her hair gave her the look of a distracted librarian or writer, and it seemed as though she had forgotten they were there, for she had a third quill in her hand and was using it to underline important bits in her text as she revised.  
  
"Ginny?" Harry said, quickly going to her. "What are you doing here?"  
  
Ginny rolled her eyes. "Well, I was going crazy in the library," she began. "Everyone was whispering, and all the fifth-years were so stressed about their O.W.L.s that they kept telling other people off for talking, but they were actually being noisier than anyone else. I tried the common room, but a bunch of first-years were in there playing Exploding Snap. So, I came here. I figured you would come through at one time or another." She smiled at him, and he suddenly found himself feeling happier than he had a few moments before.  
  
Apparently, though, his return smile was not quite bright enough, because she suddenly looked him over critically. "Harry, what's the matter?" she asked in concern. "You look rather peaked."  
  
Harry sighed. "Nothing's the matter," he lied, not wanting to tell her about his attempt to convince Dumbledore to let him have another go at Voldemort.  
  
"Liar," she stated simply, no reproach or judgment in her voice. "What's really bothering you? I heard you say 'Malfoy.'" She looked at him carefully as she said that. For the past two weeks, Harry had refused to talk about Malfoy's death besides the expected comments such as "he deserved what he got."  
  
"It's nothing," Harry said, trying to sound nonchalant.  
  
"Right," Ginny said decisively. "Go get the cloak, Harry."  
  
"The cloak?" Harry repeated dumbly.  
  
"The cloak," Ginny confirmed, pulling the quills out of her hair and stacking her books neatly against the wall, knowing they were unlikely to be disturbed. "You need to get out, and so do I. If I revise for one second longer my eyes will cross permanently." She made the attempt at levity, but saw that, for the moment at least, it was no good. Something was bothering Harry, bothering him badly, and she intended to find out what.  
  
"What are you waiting for?" she urged, when Harry continued to stand there looking confused. "Go get your cloak and meet me back here as soon as you can." She stood on tiptoe to kiss him lightly on the lips and then squeezed his arm as he left.  
  
While she waited, Ginny thought again about what must be bothering him. She didn't think it was actually Malfoy's death, because although that had been shocking, it was not as if he was anything even approaching a friend.  
  
She knew he was itching to have another go at Voldemort and frustrated because Dumbledore wouldn't let him. Other than just being determined, she had a nagging feeling that there was something Harry wasn't telling her about why he was so adamant about it. If she was completely honest with herself, she was on Dumbledore's side, not that she would ever let Harry know that…she would support him to the end, no matter what. She considered it both her duty and her privilege to do so. She just wished she knew why. If she had been Harry, she would have been all too happy to have a reason not to intrude upon the thoughts of the most evil wizard of all time.  
  
Harry looked slightly more cheerful as he ducked back under the tapestry and reemerged, a lump in his pocket telling her that he had indeed retrieved his cloak from the dormitory.  
  
"You ready?" she asked with an impish grin.  
  
Smiling his first smile since lunchtime that day, Harry nodded and took the cloak from his pocket.  
  
A few minutes later, Harry and Ginny were carefully skirting around the students on the ground to their favorite path around the lake. They walked in companionable silence, clasping hands tightly and using their other hands to hold the cloak carefully in place. Neither of them was in the mood to be discovered.  
  
"Here?" Ginny asked after a few minutes, indicating "their" spot under the tree by the lake.  
  
"Sure," Harry said, but his heart had grown heavy. As they had walked, he had come to the conclusion he had been fighting against for two weeks. In order to keep Ginny safe, he was going to have to leave her, and even the thought of it was enough to fill his heart with the same kind of sadness he had felt when Sirius died.  
  
They settled themselves carefully in their comfortable spot in the shade, and Ginny wasted no time in taking Harry in her arms and kissing him deeply. He returned the kiss eagerly at first, but after a few moments, he pulled away.  
  
"Harry, what is it?" Ginny asked softly, her concern apparent. "Please tell me."  
  
Harry took a deep breath, willing himself to remain strong. _I don't have a choice_ , he thought. _If I can't break into Voldemort's mind and find out what he's going to do, this is the only way to keep her safe…I'll make sure he knows, somehow…_  
  
"Whatever it is, it can't be as bad as all that," Ginny said, reading the obvious sadness on his face. As soon as she said it though, she mentally kicked herself. With everything that was going on, how was she to know that it wasn't "as bad as all that?"  
  
"Ginny," Harry began, and she was startled to hear his voice break very slightly. "Ginny…"  
  
"What is it?" she whispered, suddenly feeling very apprehensive.  
  
"I can't see you anymore," Harry said quickly before he lost his nerve.  
  
"What?" Ginny asked, her heart clenching inside her chest. "What do you mean, you can't see me anymore, Harry? I thought…"  
  
She was about to say, "I thought you loved me," but didn't, thinking that the words would sound pathetic. Besides, even though the fear coursing through her soul, she suspected that there was more to this.  
  
"Ginny, it's what I've got to do. There are no guarantees that things are going to turn out okay," Harry said. "And in the meantime, everyone I'm close to is in danger. It's the only way to keep you safe. I mean it. I won't see you anymore." His voice grew stronger as his resolve strengthened. He knew he was doing the right thing.  
  
Ginny seemed to have other ideas. "Bullocks," she said, her voice strong and almost angry. "Harry Potter, if you think I'm going to accept an excuse as lame as that one, you've got another think coming, you prat. If you don't want to be with me, that's one thing, but you're not going to leave me because of some simple-minded idea about going off on your own and being _noble_. Sorry, Harry. Nothing doing."  
  
"Ginny, you just don't get it!" Harry burst out, and it was lucky that no one was passing their spot at that particular moment, because he would have been heard quite clearly. "Being close to me is as good as having a target painted over your chest. I won't let anything happen to you, and if I have to leave you to keep you safe, that's what I'm going to do!"  
  
"And fine protection you're going to be if you're avoiding me," Ginny shot back, her cheeks and the tips of her ears growing pink in the typical Weasley fashion. "Who do you think is going to keep me safe if not you?"  
  
"I'm more danger to you than protection," Harry insisted. "I'm sorry, Ginny, but I'm not going to change my mind." He made to stand up, but Ginny grabbed his arm with surprising strength, pulling him back down next to her.  
  
"Do you love me?" she asked through clenched teeth. "Answer quickly. If this is all some sort of excuse to get away from me because you don't want to be with me, tell me, and I will let you walk away. Say you don't love me, Harry. Say it _now_."  
  
Harry opened his mouth, determined to end the conversation by saying exactly that, but he found that he couldn't. He looked at her soft brown eyes, which were brimming with tears either from anger or sadness, and he couldn't bear to say the words he knew she would have to hear if he was ever to distance himself from her.  
  
"You can't say it, can you?" she whispered, her tears spilling over her lower lids. "You want to, but you can't."  
  
"I can't," Harry said, his resolve crumbling. "I love you, Ginny. I love you so much it seems like my heart will burst right out of my chest with it. That's why I've got to leave you." His own eyes got a bit teary as he said it, and be brushed them impatiently with the sleeve of his robes.  
  
"You won't," Ginny said with conviction. "The safest place for me to be is wherever you are, Harry. I'm not sure of much else, but I'm certain of that."  
  
"No, Ginny," Harry said, but she wouldn't let him continue.  
  
"This is going to end someday, my love," Ginny said, her voice growing soft once again. "You're going to do what you have to do, and you're going to do it with me and with all the rest of your family standing right beside you. And after you finish that evil git off, we're going to have a life together. You and me, Harry. It's all I've ever wanted, and I'm not letting it go for some cock-eyed idea of self-sacrifice on your part."  
  
"A life?" Harry repeated.  
  
"A life, Harry," Ginny responded strongly. "We're going to get married and have children, and we're going to live to be old and gray with nothing more exciting than letters coming from McGonagall when one of the kids misbehaves." She wrapped her arms around him, burying her head in her special spot at the nape of his neck.  
  
Harry couldn't respond to this. He had never thought of it in terms of marriage and children, but he realized with a pang that he could not imagine any kind of life without the woman who was sitting beside him, holding him so passionately.  
  
"That's what you want, isn't it?" Ginny asked, pulling away to look straight into his eyes.  
  
"It's…" Harry began, now knowing he could never do what he had set out to do. "It's the only way I would ever want it to be," he finished, and this time, he did not wait for her to kiss him first.  
  
Harry and Ginny spent much of that afternoon wrapped securely in the invisibility cloak under the tree by the lake, alternately talking softly and holding each other close. Their caresses that day were gentle, caring and somehow more mature and understanding than he ever had been before.  
  
" _…and neither can live while the other survives…_ " The words from the prophecy ran through his head as he kissed Ginny goodnight, and as he went slowly up the stairs to his dormitory and lay down in his bed, he finally knew what they meant.  
  


* * *

  
At five in the morning on a Sunday, Gryffindor Tower was as still and quiet as a churchyard but for one solitary figure moving silently through the common room. Harry Potter put on his invisibility cloak before he climbed through the portrait hole and headed straight to the statue of the one-eyed witch. Checking his Marauder's Map, he tapped his wand to the statue, whispering " _Dissendium_."  
  
Hogsmeade was almost as still as Gryffindor Tower had been as Harry carefully and quietly exited Honeyduke's and made his way up the main road towards the stile at the edge of the village. Wrapped in his invisibility cloak, he attracted no notice from the few villagers who were out and about that early.  
  
He made his way around to the back of the Shrieking Shack, whispering the password to unlock the gate even though he was certain that he had been completely undetected. He wanted to take no chances. After their conversation yesterday, Harry had grown even more determined to find out what Voldemort's plans were, and when he reached the upstairs room where he had first met his godfather, he did not hesitate.  
  
Shrugging off the invisibility cloak and placing it beside him on the dusty old bed along with his wand and the Marauder's Map, Harry closed his eyes and began to concentrate.


	38. Hyde and Seek

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything comes to a head, and events are put into motion that will push events irrevocably toward their end.

"Are our plans in place?" Voldemort hissed.  
  
"Yes, My Lord," Lucius Malfoy replied, slipping his Death Eater's mask over his face and indicating that the others should do the same.  
  
"She has made all of the required preparations," the Dark Lord stated.  
  
"She has, Lord Voldemort," another masked figure confirmed. "You will find the Ministry to be open to us."  
  
"Thank you, Dawlish," Voldemort said coldly. "Her loyalty has not yet been called into question, I trust?"  
  
"No, my Lord," Malfoy replied, his silky voice betraying to clue that he had lost both son and wife just two short weeks ago. "She has aroused no suspicion."  
  
"Imelda Arnold is above reproach - " Voldemort began, but he suddenly stopped, a malicious gleam lighting his snake-like red eyes. "I believe we have a guest," he said softly. "Potter has decided to join us."  
  
The room was silent as the Death Eaters waited for their instructions, all of them contriving to hide their disbelief. A sixteen-year-old boy had successfully breached the Occlumency shield of the Dark Lord? It was preposterous…unheard of…and yet, it seemed that Harry Potter had done it. The only question was, how?  
  
Voldemort closed his eyes and breathed in deeply from his slit-like nostrils. "Potter…" he whispered, and without any further warning, each and every occupant of the room was knocked to the ground with the force of the magic behind the Dark Lord's push against the Boy-Who-Lived.  
  


* * *

  
It had been two weeks since Draco's death, two bleak weeks in which Narcissa Malfoy had been hidden away in a small bedchamber in one of the many towers of Hogwarts, mourning for her son and hating herself for not possessing the strength to die in his place.  
  
It had only been recently that Narcissa had decided that she would not only forsake her former Master, but would betray him in every way she could. She no longer cared about the danger of her actions; the only emotion she now possessed was a reckless desire to make up for her weakness and to avenge the death of her son.  
  
"Understand, Dumbledore, that I tell you this not out of loyalty to you, but to Draco," Narcissa Malfoy stated coldly as she perched on the edge of a chair in front of Dumbledore's desk, and there was no mistaking the raw grief still present in her eyes, if not in her voice.  
  
"Yes, of course, Narcissa," Dumbledore said softly. "The love of a mother for her child is the most powerful magic that ever has been, or indeed ever will be possessed in the hand of humankind."  
  
Narcissa's eyes clouded for a moment then, but whatever she was thinking, she did not choose to share it with the Headmaster.  
  
"Imelda Arnold," she said plainly.  
  
"Imelda Arnold?" Dumbledore repeated, his eyes widening slightly in alarm. "Do you mean to say that Imelda Arnold is a Death Eater?"  
  
"Don't be stupid, Dumbledore," Narcissa replied bitingly. "Give the Ministry a bit more credit than to hire someone with the Dark Lord's mark emblazoned plainly on their forearm, although they don't deserve much more credit than that," she muttered.  
  
"What has she to do with Voldemort?" Dumbledore pressed, leaning forward in his chair.  
  
"You do not have to be a Death Eater to be a follower of the Dark Lord. Surely, Dumbledore, even _you_ knew that."  
  
"Of course," Dumbledore said. "What of his plans?"  
  
"He is going to -"  
  
"Professor!"  
  
The door to Dumbledore's inner sanctum flew open and Ginny Weasley rushed in, her hair wild and her pajamas and dressing gown flying behind her.  
  
"Miss Weasley?" Dumbledore inquired, rising from his seat. Quite apart from being interrupted in the middle of such an important conversation, he was concerned about what would have caused Ginny Weasley to get into such a state.  
  
"Harry's gone!" she said breathlessly. "The invisibility cloak's gone, too. We've looked everywhere, and I'm desperately afraid he's gone and done something stupid."  
  


* * *

  
Harry encountered little resistance as he pushed his imagined beads of light into the mind of Voldemort, and he hesitated for only an instant when he knew he was close.  
  
 _I should not be doing this_ , the small, reasonable voice inside his mind told him. _Not without the others. It's too dangerous_.  
  
 _It's the only way_ , he argued with himself, knowing he could not remain suspended in his meditative state just outside of Voldemort's defenses for long. _Even Remus thinks it's a good idea. I've got to find out what he's going to do with Ginny_.  
  
As soon as he thought of her, his decision was made and he pushed forward. To his great surprise, however, he was not required to once again pass through the spiked door to reach Voldemort's inner thoughts and plans. He heard them, in the Dark Lord's own chilling voice, just as he made his entrance.  
  
"Imelda Arnold is above reproach - " the voice, which still did not fail to raise the hairs on the back of Harry's neck, hissed, but suddenly stopped and changed in tone. "I believe we have a guest," he said. "Potter has decided to join us."  
  
Harry realized at once he had been detected and instinctively tried to draw the strength he knew he would need from his friends. Too late, he remembered that he had done this without the aid, or even knowledge, of any of them. He had only been trying to protect Ginny, to protect all of them, but as he felt the full force of the Dark Lord's retaliation, he knew why he had never been allowed or advised to do this on his own.  
  
He was not even prepared to fight back. He made his best effort, and against most other wizards, that effort would have been sufficient. Against Lord Voldemort, who had turned his full power onto his sixteen-year-old opponent, it was simply not enough.  
  
Harry's last thought before he fell into complete unconsciousness was that Ginny and Lupin had been right: he couldn't do this alone. Now, because he had tried he would not be able to pass on vital information, and he was afraid the side of the light would suffer a major defeat.  
  


* * *

  
"Come, Miss Weasley," Dumbledore said as he rose quickly and hurried toward his door. He suddenly saw with scathing clarity exactly what he had done in not telling Harry about Narcissa, not telling him exactly what that other way to get the necessary information would be. "Narcissa, I am sure you will understand. This cannot wait."  
  
His reasons, as always, had been sound. He had been intending to talk to Harry during their Tuesday lesson, after he had finally spoken to Narcissa Malfoy. He felt that it was a wiser course to keep Narcissa's whereabouts as private as possible, even among the Order, and he had not thought that Harry would so something so rash, so soon.  
  
As he watched the small form of Ginny Weasley, her dressing gown flying behind her as she led him to Gryffindor Tower, he felt another of the familiar pangs of regret. I have overlooked, once again, one of the greatest attributes of youth, he thought, hurrying along behind her with surprising speed and agility. The ability to love so freely, so passionately, without the restraints of age and care, carries with it the compulsion to protect that love at all costs.  
  
"Hurry, Professor!" Ginny urged, turning toward him, her face pleading. "Please!"  
  
 _I gave Harry no choice_ , he realized as he climbed through the Gryffindor portrait hole to meet an anxious-looking Ron and Hermione.  
  
He shook off his feelings of regret and self-doubt as he addressed the three young people looking at him with such hope in their eyes, as if he would be able to solve this problem with a wave of his wand.  
  
"Have you any idea where he has gone?" he asked quickly.  
  
"He's nowhere in the castle," Ginny repeated. "Neville woke up really early to go check on a Herbology project, and he was the first one to realize that Harry wasn't there. We've spent an hour looking in all his usual places. He's not here!" Her voice, though strong, was laced with no small amount of panic.  
  
"What if he didn't stay here in the castle? Could he have flooed to Grimmauld Place?" Hermione asked anxiously.  
  
"No," Dumbledore responded. "If the Floo network had been used, I would have been immediately alerted."  
  
"Wouldn't you have been alerted if he'd left the castle any other way?" Hermione pressed.  
  
"The wards are set in such a way that entrances are always noted but exits by means other than the Floo Network, Portkeys and the Forbidden Forest, while they may be seen if necessary, are not of as high consequence," Dumbledore said distractedly.  
  
"So you didn't know he'd gone and you have no idea where or even if he left the grounds," Ginny said, forgetting to be respectful.  
  
"I am afraid not, Miss Weasley," he replied.  
  
"What's he on about, leaving so early?" Ron asked in a disgruntled voice.  
  
"Isn't it obvious?" Ginny said bitingly. "He's gone to have another go at You-Know-Who, hasn't he?" She directed this last statement to the Headmaster, and felt the last bit of hope that he had just gone for a walk leave her heart when he nodded.  
  
"We've got to find him!" Hermione exclaimed. "If he's on his own and is detected, the results could be disastrous!"  
  
"Idiot," Ron muttered, kicking the carpet and hoping that nothing bad had happened to his best friend.  
  
"I need all of you to think," Dumbledore said. "He could not fly to Grimmauld Place; it is too far."  
  
"He could Apparate," Ron pointed out. "We got our licenses."  
  
"Harry didn't," Hermione said. "Still, it is possible. He was as good at it as we were, even if he isn't seventeen yet."  
  
"He wouldn't go to Grimmauld Place," Ginny said with conviction. "He hated going there; it always reminded him too much of Sirius."  
  
The others looked slightly surprised, for Harry had not ever said as much to them. By now, though, even Ron was accustomed to the fact that Harry talked to Ginny more frankly than anyone else.  
  
"Miss Weasley, is there anywhere else? Somewhere he would feel secure, somewhere with which he is familiar?" Dumbledore asked with a growing sense of urgency. If Harry had, in fact, attempted something of the sort, he needed to be reached, and quickly.  
  
Ginny gasped. "Of course!" she said fiercely, angry with herself for not thinking of it until that moment. "The Shrieking Shack," she said definitely.  
  
"The Shrieking Shack?" Ron repeated dubiously. "Why would he want to go to that old place? We haven't been there since…" he trailed off, remembering the last time he had accompanied Harry to the Shack. It had been during the October Hogsmeade visit, and it had been then that they had been told about the prophecy.  
  
"Ginny's right," Hermione declared, with a sideways look at her friend. After-hours girl-talk meant that Hermione knew exactly when Harry had last been to the Shack, and she could understand why he would find it to be a place of comfort. He had met Sirius there, had told his friends his biggest secret and received their support there and most recently, he had been with Ginny there.  
  
"How do you know?" Ron said with frustration. "He could be anywhere, really, couldn't he?"  
  
"He's there," Hermione and Ginny said together, and all three looked to Professor Dumbledore.  
  
"We must go immediately," he said, and none of them were comforted by his tone of voice this time. It told them exactly how dangerous what Harry had done was.  
  
"Shall we get dressed?" Hermione asked in a small voice.  
  
"As quickly as you can, Miss Granger," Dumbledore answered gravely, and watched as all three of them turned and raced back to their dormitories.  
  
"What's Potter done, Professor?" asked a sleepy voice from the other side of a high-backed chair.  
  
"Mr. Finnegan," Dumbledore said with some surprise. "I did not see you."  
  
"I, erm, well, I wasn't trying to listen," Seamus stammered, looking down. Not being as well acquainted with the Headmaster as his roommates, he was quite intimidated to find him standing in the Gryffindor Common Room at such an hour.  
  
"Indeed, it does seem as though we gain more information than we bargain for when we inadvertently hear the conversation of others," Dumbledore said seriously. "Harry has found himself in a dangerous situation, but it is my hope that any trouble will be resolved quickly."  
  
"Does it, well, I mean, does it have something to do with…" Seamus trailed off, afraid of seeming too interfering.  
  
"Lord Voldemort?" Dumbledore finished quietly. "Yes, Mr. Finnegan, Mr. Potter's troubles do seem to center around him, do they not?"  
  
"I just, well, I remember what happened to him at the beginning of fall term," Seamus muttered. "I was worried, that's all."  
  
"And you have found it hard to express your concern to your friends?" the Headmaster asked shrewdly. He had not failed to notice Seamus's absence from the group at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall.  
  
"Yeah," Seamus answered. "But I don't want anything…bad to happen."  
  
The conversation was halted as abruptly as it had begun, for Ginny, Hermione and Ron all came rushing down the dormitory stairs at that moment, dressed haphazardly but completely.  
  
"Mr. Finnegan, stand close to your friends in these times," Dumbledore said quietly as the others joined them. "You will find that the bonds that tie us together have become more important than ever. Now, return to your dormitory for the present and find a few more hours' rest."  
  
Seamus nodded and, avoiding the curious eyes of the others, went back up to the sixth-year boys' dormitory without another word.  
  
"Are we ready?" Dumbledore asked the other three. When they all nodded quietly, their faces serious and worried, he picked up a library book from one of the tables, held his wand to it, and muttered, "Portus."  
  


* * *

  
Dumbledore took a moment to shoot a silvery signal from his wand as they appeared in the parlor of the Shrieking Shack, the very same parlor which had played host to Lord Voldemort and Lucius Malfoy over the Christmas holidays.  
  
Without speaking, Ginny turned and ran up the stairs. She knew exactly where he would be if he was in the house, and as the others followed her her shout of alarm was evidence to the fact that she had, indeed, found him.  
  
"Professor!" she cried, tears pooling in her eyes and dripping down her face. "Professor Dumbledore! He's here!"  
  
The Headmaster pushed quietly past Ron and Hermione and entered the room, immediately seeing the source of Ginny's distress.  
  
Harry lay spread-eagle on the dusty coverlet of the ramshackle old bed, his eyes wide open but unblinking and unseeing. His skin was as pale as parchment and his lips were slightly parted, as if he had been about to say something when he had been struck. He was so still that for a moment even Dumbledore feared the worst.  
  
"He's not breathing," Hermione whispered, raw terror lacing her voice.  
  
Ron's horrified eyes were fixed on his best friend, searching desperately for some sign of life, not believing what seemed to be so obvious in front of them. Harry couldn't be…he just…couldn't be…  
  
"Professor?" Ginny asked, holding Harry's left hand desperately. He felt so cold.  
  
Dumbledore was leaning over Harry's prone form, examining him closely. Placing one wrinkled hand on the boy's cool face, the Headmaster breathed again when he felt the smallest movement of air between his student's lips.  
  
"Harry is alive," he said quietly, and both Ginny and Hermione began to cry while Ron sagged against the wall, his face slack with relief. Dumbledore shot another signal from his wand before focusing on his student again, moving his wand in complicated motions over Harry's body.  
  
With a gasp, Harry sat up straight, breathing heavily and looking around wildly, as though expecting to be attacked.  
  
"Harry, calm down. Look at me," Ginny said, her voice strong and insistent, no sign of her tears from only a moment before present on her face. "Look at me, Harry, it's okay."  
  
"Did Voldemort detect your presence, Harry?" Dumbledore asked quietly. "Did he know you were intruding upon his thoughts?"  
  
Harry nodded slowly, fearing to look into the Headmaster's blue eyes, afraid of the condemnation he was sure he would find there. Ginny squeezed his hand.  
  
"Can you stand?" Dumbledore asked. Harry nodded shakily.  
  
"I want you all to go back to the school and wait for me in my office," Dumbledore said, and when he looked at Harry again, Harry was surprised to find understanding in those fathomless blue eyes rather than condemnation or blame.  
  
"Back to the school?" Ginny repeated. "Professor, shouldn't he rest first? I mean, after the other times…"  
  
"This was nothing like the other times, Miss Weasley, and it turned out better than it might have," Dumbledore assured her. "Voldemort obtained no information from Harry, nor did he cause him any lasting injury."  
  
"Harry set himself like that, Professor, didn't he?" Hermione asked quickly. "I read about an Occlumens who could prevent any chance of intrusion by shutting down his mind almost entirely. It's risky, though," she added, turning to look at Harry. "There's the chance that the witch or wizard who attempts to do this could put themselves in an irreversible state of coma."  
  
"Indeed, Miss Granger, although I do not know if it was intentional or if it was simply a lucky accident that Harry was able to raise such a powerful and unique shield," Dumbledore said. "However, we must continue this discussion at a later time. Please, all four of you, return to my office. I must go to the Ministry, myself, along with much of the Order."  
  
Harry finally spoke. "Professor," he said, his voice croaky from his earlier exertion. "The Minister!"  
  
Dumbledore held up a hand. "I am aware of it, Harry," he said quietly. "Our source has given us that bit of information, and I daresay she has more to offer."  
  
"About Ginny?" he asked directly, but the Headmaster did not have a chance to answer him because several 'pops' sounded from around the house, indicating that the signals had been received and the Order had come into service.  
  
"Harry, listen to me," Professor Dumbledore said urgently. "You must be extremely cautious. You are vulnerable after using your Occlumency shield in such a way; you will find it hard to defend yourself against Legilimency, and Voldemort will be aware of this. He will be searching for you."  
  
"Harry, Ginny, Ron and Hermione, what are you four doing here?" a confused Mr. Weasley asked as he came into the bedroom, looking for Dumbledore.  
  
"Harry went after You-Know-Who on his own," Ron answered.  
  
"The Ministry, Albus?" asked McGonagall, who had just Apparated into a corner of the bedroom.  
  
"Minerva, I will need you to stay behind at Hogwarts," Dumbledore said, and she nodded and Apparated away once again.  
  
"All right, Harry?" asked Lupin distractedly, brushing an unfamiliar-looking powder from his robes and looking as though he had been right in the middle of something odd when the summons had come.  
  
"All right, Moony," Harry answered, but by then, no one could hear anyone else from the din of several voices. They tried to listen in on many conversations at once, but none of them had had much luck by the time that Dumbledore appeared once again beside them, holding the library book.  
  
"This Portkey will take you back to my office," Dumbledore said, handing the book to Ginny, his eyes twinkling slightly, as if he knew that they had every intention of staying as long as they were able. "Please, all four of you wait for me there. I hope I shall not be delayed long."  
  
"Yes, Professor," she said, reaching to take the book from him.  
  
When all four of their hands were touching the book, Harry felt a tug beneath his naval and the four of them journeyed at lightning speed back to Hogwarts.  
  
As they landed with a "thud" in the middle of the Head's office, Harry realized immediately that he was going to have to answer to his friends for what he had done.  
  
"What were you _thinking_ of, Harry?" Ginny asked him immediately.  
  
"You could have at least taken us with you, mate, even if the adults wouldn't go," Ron agreed.  
  
"I -" Harry began to argue, but he realized that Ron had actually been exactly right.  
  
"Did you not think we would be behind you, Harry, even if Dumbledore was against this?" Hermione asked quietly. "Aren't we always behind you?"  
  
"You - " Harry began again, but this time, he was interrupted by a bright green blaze of flame and Percy Weasley's head showing up unexpectedly in Professor Dumbledore's fire.  
  
"Percy?" Ron asked incredulously. "What are you doing here?"  
  
"Never mind that," Percy said in the businesslike and pompous tone they had all been accustomed to before, but all four of them were a bit surprised now. In the past few months, the Percy who had once been so arrogant and ambitious had mellowed somewhat into a more caring, if still serious, young man, and he and George had even been known to have an occasional bit of fun together as they ran Weasley's Wizard Wheezes.  
  
"What's happening?" Harry asked quickly.  
  
"Professor Dumbledore wants you to come to London," Percy said quickly, scowling at the four of them as they exchanged glances.  
  
"How are we to get there?" Harry asked.  
  
"Apparate to the alley near the Visitor's Entrance to the Ministry of Magic," he said. "Quickly." Without another word, his head vanished from the fire.  
  
Harry, Ginny, Ron and Hermione looked at one another uncertainly.  
  
"Professor Dumbledore asked us to stay here," Hermione said. "He asked us not three minutes ago to wait for him here. He said he wouldn't be delayed long. How could he be in London?"  
  
Harry quickly explained what we had seen in his short Legilimency connection with Voldemort.  
  
"The Minister of Magic is a Death Eater?" Ron asked, horrified.  
  
"That can't be possible," Hermione said hesitantly. "Surely they wouldn't let anyone with Voldemort's mark work for the Ministry. Surely, in these times, they check for that."  
  
"Dumbledore said it was true," Harry said firmly. "That's where everyone was going. He and the Order were going to the Ministry to alert the Aurors and aid in Imelda Arnold's arrest."  
  
"What about Percy, though?" Ginny asked. "He didn't seem like himself."  
  
"Something must be going on," Harry said. "Dumbledore wouldn't call us there without a reason."  
  
"We need to talk to Dumbledore himself, Harry," Hermione said. "It doesn't make any sense."  
  
"Dumbledore's not going to have time to talk to us," Harry said. "We trust Percy, don't we?"  
  
"Why Percy, though?" Hermione persisted. "Why not Mrs. Weasley or Professor McGonagall?"  
  
"I don't know, Hermione!" Harry answered. "But Percy said Professor Dumbledore needed us now. What are we waiting for?"  
  
"Harry, I can't Apparate," Ginny said, sounding uncertain. "I don't know how."  
  
"You shouldn't -" Harry and Ron began at the same time.  
  
"Don't you dare tell me I can't go!" Ginny exclaimed, stamping her foot.  
  
Harry knew that tone, and he did not want to waste time arguing the point. If Dumbledore had asked for them, there had been a reason for it. He and the Headmaster had discussed possible offensive uses for his Legilimency skills, and he wondered if that had something to do with it.  
  
"We'll use the Floo to get to the Leaky Cauldron," Harry said decisively. "We haven't got time for brooms. From there, we'll Apparate to the Ministry," he held up a silencing hand, knowing that Ginny was about to protest. "Ginny, have you ever side-along apparated?" he asked.  
  
"Only once, when I was about three," Ginny said uncertainly.  
  
"You'll go with me," Harry told her.  
  
"Harry, don't you think we ought to tell Professor McGonagall where we're going?" Hermione asked tentatively.  
  
"Dumbledore will have told her," Harry answered. "He will have used that signal that the Order uses to talk to each other."  
  
"I don't know, Harry," Hermione said uncertainly. "It seems too much like…"  
  
"Like last time," Ron finished for her. "The pieces aren't fitting together."  
  
"This is nothing like last time," Harry said hotly. "Last time bloody Voldemort planted a vision in my head, and we couldn't find Professor Dumbledore! This time, Dumbledore's asking for us."  
  
"Why would he, Harry?" Hermione persisted.  
  
"There are certain things I've been practicing on in Legilimency," Harry said. "He thinks it could be used against Voldemort in the end. Maybe whatever's going on at the Ministry makes him think it's a good time."  
  
"It's just doesn't sound like…" Hermione trailed off at the look on Harry's face.  
  
"Didn't you just tell Harry we'd be behind him, no matter what?" Ginny said fiercely.  
  
"I did, but…"  
  
"Hermione, if Harry's going to try to use Legilimency again, he's going to need all of us. That's got to be what Professor Dumbledore wants him for; nothing else makes any sense."  
  
"We've got to move," Harry said tensely. His scar had begun to hurt, and he remembered Dumbledore's warnings about his vulnerability as he tried to strengthen his Occlumency shields. "Something's happening; Voldemort's up to something. We've got to move!"  
  
He strode over to the fire and took up the pot of glittering Floo powder from the mantle. He looked at the others, who nodded back at him, even Hermione, and followed suit.  
  
Without a word or a note, the young man who was Wizarding world's only hope of defeating the Dark Lord left the safety of one of the most closely guarded castles in the world for the uncertainty that lay beyond the grate.  
  


* * *

  
Lucius Malfoy was unsurprised with the bells attached to the front door of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes sounded, alerting him that someone had entered the store. He knew that Potter and his friends, though reckless, were not unintelligent, and he had planned for the possibility that they might stop by and check Percy's story before going to the Ministry.  
  
He kept himself hidden, his wand trained on Percy, the strong Imperius Curse he had cast still in full effect.  
  
"Percy!" Harry said as they walked in, all four of them with their wands drawn.  
  
"What are you doing here?" Lucius Malfoy mouthed, hearing the words come out of his victim's mouth.  
  
"You didn't seem like yourself," Ginny Weasley answered. "We just came to check…"  
  
"Dumbledore wants you," Percy said. "I did not ask you to come here, I asked you to Apparate directly to the Visitor's Entrance to the Ministry."  
  
Lucius Malfoy saw Potter suddenly become very focused, his eyes narrowed as he looked straight into Percy's eyes. He's using Legilimency, Lucius realized, but he had not yet had time to react when Harry suddenly shouted to the others.  
  
"Ron, Hermione, Ginny!" he yelled. "Cover yourselves!"  
  
With the quickness born of their training over the past year, the three of them formed a triangle, their backs to one another and their wands drawn.  
  
"What's going on, Harry?" Ron called.  
  
"Percy's been -" Harry started to answer.  
  
"Put under the Imperius Curse," Lucius Malfoy finished in his silkiest drawl, coming out from behind the counter. "How very clever of you, Potter." He took his wand off of Percy and pointed it straight at the heart of the dark-haired boy who was now advancing on him, his face a mask of utmost loathing.  
  
"Join the others, Percy," Harry said, knowing that Percy would not be an advanced dueler.  
  
To his credit, Percy obeyed without a word. He was not sure what had happened, but he had the uncomfortable feeling that Ron, Ginny, Hermione and Harry were here because he had asked them to come. He, too, drew his wand as he joined his siblings and Hermione, who were on the lookout for enemies in all directions.  
  
Lucius Malfoy began the duel, knowing that no reinforcements were coming, but feeling certain he could take the five young people with relative ease.  
  
" _Crucio_!" he cried.  
  
Harry ducked instinctively, raising his shield wandlessly and firing a quick succession of spells toward Malfoy, who raised a shield almost as effortlessly as Harry had. The two dueled for what seemed like forever, the others keeping watch but, at Harry's demand, not entering the duel themselves. All four had raised invisible shield charms.  
  
It seemed like forever before a soundless curse hit Lucius Malfoy's wand arm, causing it to spurt bright red blood.  
  
Taking all five of his opponents by surprise, Malfoy changed his strategy in an instant. All at once, he took his wand off of Harry and fired a strong Reductor Curse straight into the center of the others' circle, causing all of them to fall forward. He deflected Harry's curses as he dove toward them, and knowing that he was but speeding up the Dark Lord's original intentions in having Potter and his friends come to the Ministry, he grabbed Ginny and Apparated away.  
  
Without wasting a moment, Harry followed suit, concentrating with all his might on Ginny. They had spoken of this in Apparation classes, although he had never before attempted it. It was possible to follow a person rather than naming a specific place as their destination, but it held much more danger of splinching oneself than traditional Apparation, and was thus frowned upon.  
  
Ron, Hermione and Percy looked at one another in worry and astonishment.  
  
"Where's he taking Ginny?" Ron asked.  
  
"We've got to find Dumbledore," Hermione answered. "Harry's tried to follow them; I only hope he can."  
  
"We've got to go, too," Percy said. "Malfoy will be taking Ginny back to Voldemort, hoping to lure Harry wherever they are. Harry can't go it alone, there will be too many."  
  
Ron and Hermione nodded as Percy shot the Order's signal from his wand. "I've alerted Dumbledore."  
  
"He's at the Ministry," Hermione told him. "They are arresting Imelda Arnold."  
  
"The interim Minister?" Percy asked.  
  
"She's a Death Eater," Ron supplied, running his fingers through his hair in agitation. "Damn it, we can't just sit here and do nothing! Where's George?"  
  
"We'll wait for Dumbledore," Percy said. "We don't know where they've gone. There's nothing we can do right now, and George has gone to Edinburgh after ingredients for a new product."  
  
"How can you be so calm?" Ron shouted, shrugging off Hermione's restraining hand. "He's got Ginny, or don't you care about that? Has it all been an act, Percy? Just a clever act to make us all think you're on our side now? You don't care about anyone but yourself!"  
  
"Ron!" Hermione interjected.  
  
"I know Harry is with her, wherever they've gone," Percy said quietly. "She could be no safer if she was with Dumbledore himself, and you know that. I've heard about what Harry has done, what he can do. He'll bring her back."  
  
This statement stunned Ron and Hermione into silence for a moment, but they both felt the truth in Percy's words. Harry would not let anything happen to Ginny, but what if something happened to Harry himself?  
  
The silvery form of Dumbledore's response came to them a moment later. "There is trouble at the Ministry and I suspect that Lucius Malfoy will bring her here. Come as quickly as possible."  
  
"There's an Apparation Point at the entrance to the Ministry," Percy said, explaining how to get there. "You've both got your licenses?"  
  
Ron and Hermione nodded, Ron barely restraining himself from rolling his eyes. Trust Percy to worry about licenses at a time like this.  
  
"Right," Percy said. "Let's go."  
  
With three loud 'pops,' they Disapparated.  
  


* * *

  
Things were certainly not going well at the Ministry. Outside the Minister of Magic's suite of offices, a standoff was in place. Imelda Arnold stood, flanked by her staff, at the entrance to her office, boldly facing the line of Aurors and Order members who had so rudely demanded entrance.  
  
"I know nothing of claims that I am in any way associated with the Dark Lord or his Death Eaters," Minister Arnold said loftily, holding out her left arm for evidence. As Narcissa had told Dumbledore, it was clear of the Dark Mark.  
  
"Then I am certain you will not object to accompanying us to a more secure location while we verify that," Dumbledore requested politely.  
  
"There are matters which require my attention, Dumbledore," Minister Arnold said.  
  
"How do we know she's not telling the truth?" on young Auror asked another in a loud whisper.  
  
"I have it on considerable authority that you have been taking orders from Lord Voldemort since well before you came into office," Dumbledore said calmly. "However, if this is not the case, I am sure you will not object to a search of your office?"  
  
"Of course I will object to such measures," Arnold replied, training her dark eyes on Dumbledore.  
  
"You will leave us with no choice but to arrest you by force, Miss Arnold," Kingsley Shacklebolt said in his deep voice, noting that Dumbledore had become momentarily distracted with taking an Order message and then sending one of his own in reply.  
  
When the Headmaster next focused his attention on the interim Minister of Magic, Shacklebolt noticed that he looked even graver than before.  
  
"It has been brought to my attention - " Dumbledore began seriously, but he was interrupted by the arrival of a young Auror apprentice, who ran straight to Kingsley.  
  
"There is a disturbance above the Ministry, sir," she said breathlessly, and for a moment, the attention of every person in the room was on her.  
  
"Above the Ministry?" Kingsley repeated. "You must be more specific."  
  
"In Muggle London, sir," the young woman said. "Hyde Park, right above the Ministry."  
  
"Hyde Park!" Arthur Weasley exclaimed. "At this hour on a Sunday, the park will be crawling with Muggles!"  
  
Without speaking another word, Dumbledore waved his wand. Long ropes flew out of it and bound Imelda Arnold where she stood.  
  
"See here, Dumbledore," one of her assistants shouted. "She has been convicted of nothing!"  
  
"Time is pressing," Dumbledore said, his voice old and tired. "Contact any Order members you can raise, Tonks, and Kingsley - we will need to secure the perimeter of the park to prevent any more Muggles coming in than are already there. Arthur, Molly, come with me."  
  
The crowd immediately dispersed, some heading to the Apparation point, others to the Floo Network.  
  
Arthur and Molly followed Dumbledore toward the Minister's office, and he stopped and relayed to them Percy's message from a few moments before.  
  
"Ginny?" Molly whispered.  
  
"Harry has followed her, and I suspect they are the source of the disturbance in the park," Dumbledore said heavily. "I am afraid this is part of a larger plan, the pieces of which are only beginning to fall into place. Voldemort seeks something inside the Ministry, and, as always, he seeks Harry Potter. We must not become divided. Percy and Ron are on their way here, along with Hermione Granger. Meet them, and bring them into Muggle London with you. They must not remain here."  
  
A flash of flame erupted in the air over their heads and Fawkes appeared, a sheaf of parchment in his beak.  
  
"Go, Molly, Arthur," Dumbledore urged. "I have one matter of utmost importance I must attend to, and I will join you."  
  
"What could be of more importance?" Molly asked loudly. "Albus?"  
  
"Come, Molly," Arthur coaxed. "We have to go to our children."  
  
With a scathing glance at Dumbledore, who was leaning over the desk scratching a note on the topmost piece of parchment, Molly hurried to the Apparition point to meet Percy, Ron and Hermione.  
  


* * *

  
Several Muggles screamed as a black-robed man with long blonde hair suddenly appeared in their midst, restraining a struggling red-headed girl.  
  
Lucius Malfoy smiled cruelly as he waved his wand over his head, casting a spell so powerful that several Muggles in his immediate vicinity fell to the ground with something resembling third-degree burns erupting over much of their bodies. As the air filled with screams, Malfoy barely heard the 'pop' as Harry Potter Apparated right behind him.  
  
He felt Harry's wand-tip on his temple before he heard the low, growling warning.  
  
"Let her go, Malfoy," Harry said menacingly, his heart pounding under his composed exterior.  
  
"Very well," Lucius said easily, releasing Ginny, who stumbled over the unfortunate form of one of the screaming Muggles.  
  
Harry was too busy checking Ginny over for injuries to stop Lucius Malfoy from casting the Dark Mark into the afternoon sky over London.  
  
" _Morsmordre_!" he cried, watching with satisfaction as the Mark of his Lord materialized over the park, causing increased panic. Within seconds, at least twenty other Death Eaters appeared under the Mark. Without waiting for instructions, they began firing sells at will, killing Muggles as they screamed and tried to run in terror.  
  
Harry shielded himself and Ginny just in time to deflect a barrage of dark spells which flew their way.  
  
"I'm going to disillusion you," Harry whispered. "Get out of it as fast as you can!"  
  
"Harry Potter, don't you -"  
  
Ginny felt a sensation like cold water being poured over her head and she knew that Harry had performed the Disillusionment Charm.  
  
"When I count three, I'm going to break with you," Harry said. "Put up a shield charm before I'm too far away. I'll do one too, with sound, to cover you. Once it's up, run as fast as you can. You've got to get to the Ministry to get help."  
  
"I'm not leaving you," Ginny whispered as the spells continued to bounce off of Harry's shield.  
  
"Ginny, go," Harry said insistently. "On three. One, two…"  
  
"Three," Ginny finished resignedly, and the two broke contact.  
  
"Protego!" Harry yelled with all his might, covering Ginny's much quieter spell. He sensed rather than saw her move to his right, and he began shooting spells at the Death Eaters as rapidly as he could in the other direction.  
  
His distraction worked and Ginny escaped, but Harry was not faring quite as well.  
  
Strong as his shield charm was, and great as his dueling ability had come, more Death Eaters were arriving by the minute to replace the fallen. Harry was injured badly by a strong Diffindo curse aimed from his back, and things would have begun to look very grim indeed had not several loud 'pops' announced the entrance of the Order and the Aurors to Hyde Park.  
  


* * *

  
Knowing that even Harry would not survive long without help, Ginny ran as if Voldemort himself was after her, maintaining a moderately strong shield charm as she went.  
  
She ran blindly, having never been to Hyde Park. She knew where the Ministry was, but until she reached the surface streets, she did not know in which direction it lay.  
  
Just as she reached the edge of the park, a hot blast hit her back, stopping her in her tracks. Her blood ran cold as she heard the voice she had never thought she would hear again. Tom Riddle's voice had grown older, higher and had a hissing quality to it, but she would still have recognized it anywhere. After the memory of the sixteen-year-old Riddle had taken her into the Chamber of Secrets during her first year, his voice would be etched into her memory for the rest of her life.  
  
"We meet again, Miss Weasley," Voldemort hissed, holding his wand on her.  
  
With horror growing in her heart, Ginny realized that she was unable to move.  
  
"That's a good little girl," he continued, advancing on her, seemingly oblivious to the screams in the park behind him and the haze in the air as spells were cast from nearly a hundred dueling wizards.  
  
"You have always been attracted to attention, have you not?" he continued. "You craved it so during your first year, always coming to your beloved Tom's diary to receive bits of what you so wanted. And now, you are the lover of the Boy-Who-Lived. Is he willing to share the limelight with you?  
  
"Oh yes, Ginevra," he said, circling around her slowly, looking at her disheveled form up and down. "I know of his great love of being the hero who 'defeated' Lord Voldemort when he was only a baby…but he has annoyed me far too many times. You silly girl, did you really think that Harry Potter stood a chance against me, the most powerful wizard of all time?"  
  
Ginny stared straight into his evil face without a hint of fear and said, "Tom, you are nothing more than an old man with a twisted soul. Harry is better than ten thousand men such as yourself."  
  
Voldemort laughed then, a high, cruel laugh which turned immediately into a snarl. "We shall see, little girl, we shall see. And in the meantime, we have plenty of time to deal with your lack of courtesy."  
  
He raised his wand, and without a flicker of emotion in his voice said, " _Crucio_."  
  
Ginny screamed.  
  


* * *

  
Harry's scar gave a painful twinge just as he saw Dumbledore Apparate into the battle, waving his wand and causing the Death Eaters surrounding him to fall without so much as a sound.  
  
Harry continued battling with the two masked Death Eaters who had followed him around the edges of the fray. Although they knew Dark spells that he would never have dreamed of either learning or using, there was no question that Kingsley Shacklebolt, Albus Dumbledore and Nymphadora Tonks had taught their student well in the art of dueling. Harry maintained his solid gold shield wandlessly as he fired a torrent of spells at the other two, turning, feinting and dodging as though he had been doing so his entire life.  
  
"Harry!" Remus Lupin shouted, having finally found his charge amidst the fray. "Get out of it!"  
  
Lupin charged in to begin dueling alongside Harry, who was doing astonishingly well. Hermione had healed the gash on his back as best she could, and it did not seem to be slowing him down in the least as he hit one Death Eater with a strong Banishing charm, recovering and snapping his wand and leaving him to be picked up by the Aurors later.  
  
"You've got to get close to Dumbledore!" Remus shouted. "He's trying to gather everyone!"  
  
"Where's Ginny?" Harry shouted back, both he and his guardian still dueling furiously. "I sent her to get help when we were attacked."  
  
Remus dodged a red jet of light from his opponent's wand. "I haven't seen her, Harry, but it's hard to find anyone in this. Hopefully she's out of sight!"  
  
Just then, Harry's scar exploded with pain and he dropped to his knees, his shield disappearing. Just in time, Remus pushed him out of the way and quickly stunned the advancing Death Eater.  
  
"He's here," Harry gasped, trying to ignore the pain and recast his shield. "He's here, and he's looking for me."  
  
Just then, in a moment of unnatural silence, a shrill scream pierced the air, the scream of a young woman in excruciating pain.  
  
"He's got Ginny!" Harry yelled, jumping to his feet, now oblivious to everything else.  
  
"You don't know that, Harry! You're not ready to fight him!" Remus shouted desperately, following Harry, who was shooting spells wildly as he raced toward the source of the sound.  
  
"I do know, Moony! He's got her and he's hurting her," Harry said furiously as he cast a Stunner at a Death Eater's back and rolled to avoid a spell cast from his right, sending a jelly-legs jinx into the wooded area in which he knew a Death Eater must be hiding.  
  
He was on his feet and running when the second scream pierced the air. His heart broke for her as his anger mounted and he changed directions slightly, still easily fending off any Death Eater that dared approach him.  
  
"Voldemort's got Ginny!" he said to Ron, Hermione and Percy, who were in the process of binding two more fallen Death Eaters for the Aurors to pick up later. "I need your help! Come on!"  
  
As he ran, Harry had come up with a plan, something similar to what he and Dumbledore had discussed in their lessons, but he was going to need his friends to make it work. He didn't have enough power, but he had learned during his Legilimency sessions that he would be able to draw magical energy from them if they were in physical contact. He didn't know if it had a chance of working, but it was the best idea he had. He knew he was still no match for Voldemort in a duel.  
  
"When we get to them, Percy, you get Ginny as quick as you can and get her out of there! Remus, you've got to keep the Death Eaters out of the way. I can't deal with them and Voldemort at the same time, and someone's got to find Dumbledore."  
  
"Harry, do you know what you're doing?" Hermione shouted worriedly as Ron guarded her from behind.  
  
"I think so," Harry called back to her. "You and Ron need to touch me with your free hands and keep your shields up with your wands. I'm going to need to draw from you just like I did when I was doing Legilimency."  
  
Hermione was a bit worried, remembering what had happened to her the last time Harry had gone into Voldemort's mind. She wasn't worried about herself; she was simply worried about what would happen if Harry lost her support. _You've got to be stronger, Hermione_ , she told herself fiercely. _He's finally asking for help! You can't let him down now_.  
  
Remus and Harry still carried most of the defense of the small group as they made their way as quickly as they could across the battle and towards the source of the continuing screams.  
  
When they arrived, they fell into the agreed formation around Voldemort and Ginny, who had been concealed somewhat by some shrubberies and trees, and Harry advanced on Voldemort, his face white with rage and determination, Ron and Hermione at his side.  
  


* * *

  
Albus Dumbledore sighed inwardly as he saw Harry and his friends charge across the battlefield. He knew that the time had come: Harry was seeking Voldemort out directly, with the intent to end this if he could.  
  
Dumbledore fingered the ring in his pocket with a shaky hand. It had been this, along with an important bit of correspondence that had kept him behind at the Ministry. It had only been the previous day that he had been able to locate this relic, and he knew that he must destroy it as quickly as he was able to do.  
  
He surveyed the battlefield. Far too many were on the ground, masked faces stunned or bound with only small injuries by and large, and unmasked faces frozen forever in expressions of pain, both Muggles and Wizards. The count of the dead and the injured was going to be much higher this day than it had ever been.  
  
The remaining Death Eaters had either been captured or had Disapparated, and Dumbledore knew what he must do. He strode quickly over the grounds in the direction in which he had seen Harry Potter lead his friends, pain spreading through his ringed hand as he began to mutter the words of a powerful incantation.  
  


* * *

  
"So," Voldemort hissed triumphantly. "Harry Potter has finally come to the aid of his little girlfriend. I was growing tired of waiting."  
  
Harry did not say a word; he simply drew his wand and held it at the ready. The moment Voldemort took his own wand off Ginny, Percy rushed forward and picked her right up from where she had been lying on the ground, curled into a ball in a fruitless attempt to protect herself. He kept his wand out as he helped his sister to her feet, and his eyes remained trained on the Dark Lord who had now focused his attention on Harry Potter.  
  
"Take her," Voldemort said dismissively of Ginny. "She is of no further use to me."  
  
As Harry and Voldemort circled one another, never once breaking eye contact, Percy tried to pull Ginny away from the battle. She would have none of it, however. Weak and shaking from the exposure to the Cruciatus Curse, she nevertheless joined Ron and Hermione at Harry's side, reaching out her free arm to touch his back and raising a shield with her wand.  
  
Voldemort noticed the new wariness in his opponent's eyes, and he knew Harry had been trained. It was because of this, perhaps, that he chose not to toy with his quarry. Without warning, he struck fast and hard.  
  
Harry's shield was up in time to deflect the curse, but just as he was preparing his planned strike, Voldemort disappeared silently, reappearing behind Harry's back and striking so rapidly that no one had time to react.  
  
The jet of green light caught Hermione square in the chest, having passed through her shield charm as though it were nothing. With a soft cry, she fell to the ground, blood spurting from a deep wound in her chest.  
  
"Hermione!" Harry, Ron and Ginny yelled together, although Ron and Ginny did not break their contact with Harry. Remus Lupin rushed forward, firing spells in quick succession at Voldemort, who simply conjured a solid silver shield and deflected them as though they were so many annoying flies.  
  
Blue fire emerged from the tip of the Dark Lord's wand, catching Lupin even as he tried to dodge. The sleeve of his robes caught fire and would have quickly consumed him if Percy had not come forward, shooting a strong jet of water from his own wand to extinguish the flames.  
  
With a bellow of rage, Harry leapt forward, only barely staying with Ron and Ginny. As he had planned, he used only the spell he had used the night of Voldemort's rebirth.  
  
" _Expelliarmus_!" he cried, intentionally saying the incantation rather than casting it soundlessly. He wanted Voldemort to engage him, to take his attention away from the others.  
  
Voldemort, however, had other plans. Instead of dueling with Harry, he simply allowed the disarming charm to bounce off his shield, requiring Harry, Ron and Ginny to duck to avoid the rebound.  
  
As he stood straight again, Harry caught a glance of Hermione. Lupin was trying to pull her to the side with his remaining good arm, but she was pale and the front of her robes were torn and soaked with her blood. Harry's heart ached at the thought that he had once again led his friends into danger, and if he could not engage Voldemort, he knew that more of the same was bound to occur.  
  
"Break off from me," Harry ordered Ginny and Ron. "Get away from me, and run as fast as you can to get help for Hermione and Moony. Percy, you go as well."  
  
"We're with you," Ron said simply, not breaking his contact. Ginny said nothing, but he noticed that she didn't release her hold on him either.  
  
"Go," he said urgently, never taking his eyes off Voldemort, who was watching them with detached amusement. "I need you to go. I can't move properly, and my plan isn't working."  
  
Something in his voice convinced them to let go, and they broke apart just as Voldemort shot another jet of red light toward them. Diving in three different directions, they avoided the spell by mere inches.  
  
Harry held his shield up wandlessly and had prepared himself to enter the duel when Voldemort stopped and gazed at a point somewhere behind him.  
  
"So, your savior has arrived once more, Potter," Voldemort hissed.  
  
"Stand aside, Harry," Dumbledore said calmly. "Tom, I believe I have something that will be of great interest to you."  
  
Harry stood down, not knowing what Dumbledore had planned, but eternally grateful that he had shown up. He knew that Lupin had spoken the truth when he had said that Harry was not yet ready to face Lord Voldemort alone.  
  
Voldemort's attention was on the Headmaster now, his eyes showing nothing but contempt. A moment later, however, the snake-like red eyes widened as Dumbledore drew his hand from the pocket of his robes.  
  
Harry, who had been slowly trying to get to Hermione and Lupin, froze when he heard the sharp intake of breath from the slit-like nostrils of the Dark Lord. He turned to look at the Dumbledore, wondering what had caused this sudden sign of alarm.  
  
Dumbledore was holding up his left hand, and even Harry was repulsed by what he saw. In place of the wrinkled hand with the long fingers that he was accustomed to seeing, the hand was blackened and withered, almost charred, and Dumbledore's arm shook as he held it up.  
  
On the Headmaster's face was not one sign of the pain he had to have been feeling. He held the hand aloft and trained his wand on Voldemort as he began, once again, to mutter the words to one of the most powerful incantations that even he, known to be one of the greatest wizards of the age, had ever cast.  
  
Harry did not understand one word of what Dumbledore was saying, but Voldemort's response told him that whatever was happening, the Dark Lord was afraid. This would be a good time to get the advantage, he realized.  
  
"You fool, Dumbledore!" Voldemort hissed, his voice becoming higher with rage. He swung his wand in a wide arc, sending a pulse of dark energy towards Dumbledore, who merely raised a shield with his wand and continued muttering his incantation. His arm was shaking more severely than before, but no hint of pain or agitation was betrayed in his voice.  
  
"This was a foolish thing to do, Tom," Dumbledore said. "Much too easily destroyed. Stand _down_ , Harry! Your time has not yet come."  
  
"Fool!" Voldemort replied. "His time will never come." He turned once again to face Harry, his wand raised high in the air.  
  
Harry stood before him, his own wand at the ready. As Voldemort once again attempted to use the deadly Unforgivable Curse on his nemesis, Harry countered with a soundless Banishment charm.  
  
As they had in the graveyard two years before, the wands connected, but this time, Harry had the advantage of knowing exactly what was happening. Determinedly, Harry summoned every bit of strength he had and pushed at the golden beads of light - so familiar now from his meditations - towards Lord Voldemort, but he went one step further. He looked at Ginny, huddled with Hermione, Remus and Ron near the edge of the small grove of woods, and pushed every bit of love he felt for her toward Voldemort along the golden beam of light.  
  
Through it all, Dumbledore continued his incantation, now waving his wand over his ringed had, which was withering, if it were possible, even further.  
  
The golden beads slid almost easily toward Voldemort, so distracted was he by Dumbledore's actions. They hit the Dark Lord's wand mere seconds after the connection had been made and he grimaced as his wand began to shake violently.  
  
Harry persisted, but he, too was becoming distracted as he wondered just what was happening. The Headmaster was becoming gray-skinned with his effort, and the silver ring upon his hand had begun to glow a bright, Slytherin green.  
  
With a howl of rage, Voldemort jerked his wand up and broke the connection, looking weaker than he had before. Whether this was a result of Harry's attempt to combine Legilimency with the connection between their wands or a result of Dumbledore's incantations, it could not be said, but there was no doubt that the Dark Lord was weakened.  
  
He turned all of his attention upon Dumbledore, who had been his first introduction to the Wizarding world, his old Transfiguration teacher and one of the two wizards he had ever feared. The very land in the clearing suddenly shook, and Dumbledore's entire body was lifted off the ground as a pulse of deadly green light and tremendous magical energy emanated from the silver ring on his finger.  
  
"You will pay, Dumbledore!" Voldemort screamed, advancing on the old man, who had come back into contact with the ground, his entire body shaking with effort as the ring on his finger burned white and dissolved into liquid, dripping onto the ground.  
  
"No!" Harry yelled, running towards them, his wand drawn.  
  
"Harry, it is not your time!" Dumbledore said, looking straight at him, those clear blue eyes fathoms deep but no longer inscrutable. Something in those eyes, in that tone, stopped Harry, for he saw no attempt at protection, no fatherly concern. For a split second, he saw the Headmaster's purpose and he knew that Dumbledore was right.  
  
He stopped, his wand still drawn, his eyes glued to his mentor, who seemed to be standing under a power other than his own. Indeed, it seemed that whatever he had done with that ring on his hand had weakened him much more than it had weakened Voldemort.  
  
With a hiss of malice and triumph, Voldemort raised his wand. Though it seemed as though the world went into slow motion, it all happened in a split second. Harry, following the Headmaster's enigmatic instructions that it was not his time, could not move fast enough to prevent it.  
  
" _Avada Kedavra_!" the Dark Lord screamed, and as the jet of green light rushed towards Dumbledore's body, Harry fell to his knees.  
  
Just as with Sirius the year before, it seemed to take an age for Dumbledore to fall. His eyes remained locked on Harry even as their light went out, and Harry read in them something he had never before known, or at least realized. The Headmaster had loved him.  
  
"And now for you, Potter," Voldemort said, his face twisted with malice and his wand still drawn. He advanced slowly, taking advantage of the stunned disbelief on Harry's face. It could not have been clearer that he expected his victory to be complete.  
  
"It's not your time, Harry," Remus whispered from behind him. "All will be lost if we lose you today. On my count, we will Apparate. Follow me, as will the others."  
  
Harry did not respond, so consumed was he by guilt, grief, and rage as he watched Voldemort approach him. He drew his wand, ready to end this, one way or another.  
  
"No, Harry," Remus whispered again. "Do not let his death be in vain. Do not let it be for nothing."  
  
Harry kept his wand raised.  
  
"One," Remus counted.  
  
Harry took a step toward Voldemort, who smiled his cruel, soulless smile as he saw that Harry meant to engage him.  
  
"Two."  
  
Voldemort and Harry stopped, staring straight into one another's eyes, their wands raised.  
  
"Three!"  
  
As his guardian counted the last number, Harry's mind flashed with visions of Dumbledore, of Ginny, of Sirius, of Lily and James Potter…and with one last glare of rage at the man who had taken everything from him, he Disapparated.


	39. Great Men

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Dumbledore's death, the wizarding community must find a way to move on. Advice comes from the unlikeliest person, however: what could the old barkeep at the Hog's Head possibly know about Albus Dumbledore?

Harry landed hard in the cobblestone alleyway, his heart pounding with adrenaline and his senses clouded by grief and rage.

"Is everybody here?" Lupin asked, looking around. He carried the limp form of Hermione in his arms, though everyone noticed that his burned arm was quivering badly with pain and weakness. Voldemort's spell had burned the lower half of it almost to the bone, and the smell was a sickening combination of burnt fiber and flesh.

It seemed that everyone had successfully followed Lupin to the alleyway. Harry wasn't sure where they were, but at the moment, he did not care.

"Give her here," Ron said in a voice that was gentler than usual. "Let me take her; I'm not hurt."

Harry snapped his eyes back to Lupin, watching almost dispassionately as his guardian handed Hermione over to Ron, who held her as if she weighed nothing, checking for breath before kissing her forehead softly. "I'm taking her to St. Mungo's," he said, still in his unnaturally gentle voice. "She's still alive; they can still save her." His tone held a hint of desperation in it, and without another word, he disapparated.

"Oh, Harry!" Ginny cried, leaving Percy's side to wrap her arms around him.

Harry returned her caress automatically. "Are you hurt?" he asked, his voice hollow.

"I'm not," Ginny said, although she seemed to be unusually out of breath.

"Go with Lupin back to the castle," Harry responded in the same monotone, releasing his hold on her and backing away. "Percy, you should go to the Ministry. Someone's got to tell them."

With a glance at Harry that clearly conveyed newfound respect and even some awe, Percy once again obeyed without argument, disapparating with a soft 'pop.'

"Harry, you need to -" Lupin began.

"I'm going back," Harry said.

"Harry Potter, you'll do no such thing!" Ginny cried. "You should be in the hospital wing! You can't! It's dangerous; he could still be there! You've got to -"

"He's not still there," Harry interrupted definitely. "Now that Dumbledore's…dead…and I'm not there, he'll have left before anyone else saw him."

"Why, Harry?" Lupin asked softly, clearly reading the grief etched on the young wizard's features.

"No one knows," Harry said quietly. "No one saw but us. We can't let anyone else get to him, we can't let him lie there alone…we can't -" His voice rose in pitch but remained strong.

"We'll come too," Ginny said.

"No," Harry answered. "Lupin's got to get to the hospital, and Ginny, you need to get back to the castle and tell Professor McGonagall what's happened."

He could not bring himself to say it again. 'Dead' was too final a word for a wizard such as Dumbledore, an ancient man who had at one time seemed invincible.

Lupin met Harry's eyes and saw the determination shining through the grief, and he knew that there would be no talking him out of it. He carefully kept a check on his own sadness as he communicated silently with Harry, finally understanding his need to be alone.

"Be careful," he said simply. "Ginny, hold onto my good arm. Madam Pomfrey will be able to deal with this, and Harry is right: Professor McGonagall must be told." His voice broke slightly as he gazed once again into Harry's eyes. He hadn't seen the young wizard so tortured since Sirius's death, but there was a difference now. Harry was tortured, grief-stricken, yes…but he was not broken. Indeed, a strength emanated from him that was unlike anything his guardian had ever seen in him. With a slight shudder, Lupin realized that the feeling he was now getting from Harry was eerily similar to the aura of power that one had felt when Dumbledore had entered a room.

"Harry -" Ginny began, about to argue, but she stopped when Harry finally turned his gaze onto her.

"Ginny, please. I have to do this," he said quietly, staring straight into her weary but strong brown eyes. She, like Lupin, suddenly felt Harry's resolve and strength as clearly as if it was a part of her own soul, and she finally understood that there would be no arguing with him. Mouthing the words "I love you," she nodded slowly, took hold of Lupin's good arm, and the two disapparated.

For a moment, Harry stared at the spot where they had been only moments before, and through his stricken heart, he felt the glimmerings of thankfulness that neither had been irreversibly harmed. Unbidden, images of Ron's pale face as he had taken Hermione's limp body from Lupin flashed into his mind, but he pushed his worry firmly away, reminding himself, as Ron had, that she could still be saved. She will be, he thought fiercely, and once again focused on the task before him.

The image of Dumbledore's still form lying in the almost-hidden clearing in Hyde Park at the forefront of his thoughts, Harry pushed all other matters to the side and disapparated with a 'pop.'

* * *

  
He looked around cautiously as he apparated into the clearing, though he knew without doubt that Voldemort had gone shortly after he had. As he had hoped, Dumbledore's body lay undisturbed where it had fallen…he had been afraid that if it were found by the wrong people it would be taken, desecrated, or worse.

His grief fought to bring itself to the surface as he slowly crossed the distance. He swallowed hard, trying to quell the lump that was rising higher and higher into his throat as he approached his fallen mentor.

As he reached the form, he tenderly knelt and passed a hand over the cool, peaceful face and closed the Headmaster's eyes for the final time.

For a moment, he was still, the moisture of the damp ground soaking unnoticed through the knees of his robes as his fingers knotted themselves into the dark purple fabric of Dumbledore's cloak. For that moment, and only that moment, he let his tears fill his eyes and drop slowly onto the ground in front of him.

All too soon, the sounds of the clean-up just beyond the small grove of trees brought Harry back to himself, and he once again swallowed his sadness and swiped the moisture from his face. Gathering Dumbledore's body into his arms, he bore him gingerly and reverently down the small path and back into the main park.

* * *

  
The response to Harry's appearance bearing Dumbledore's body was immediate and predictable. Cries of surprise and alarm brought all action to a halt. In the uproar of the battle, few had noticed the direction in which Harry had run only half an hour before and none but Dumbledore had followed.

The Order members hurried to Harry's side, Molly and Arthur Weasley reaching him first. "Harry!" Molly cried, tears already filling her eyes as she saw Harry's burden clearly. "What's happened? Was it him? Where is Ginny? Ron? Percy?" Her voice rose in pitch as her greatest fears seemed to bloom into life before her.

"Dumbledore," Kingsley Shacklebolt said, his strong voice wavering in the slightest. "Is he…"

Harry remained silent. This was neither the time nor the place to tell the full story of what had happened outside of the main battle.

"Harry, my children?" Molly asked weakly.

Harry answered her, his voice hoarse but strong and unwavering. "Ron has taken Hermione to St. Mungo's." Visions once again came into his mind of Ron taking Hermione's body from Lupin as he continued, "Ginny has gone with Lupin back to Hogwarts, and Percy has gone on to the Ministry."

He did not need to answer Shacklebolt's question; the Auror had silently touched Dumbledore's limp wrist, recoiling slightly at the sight of his blackened and withered hand, while Harry had answered Mrs. Weasley.

Molly closed her eyes for a moment, thankfulness and relief flooding through her before the reality of the situation came back into focus.

"Was it him, Harry?" Tonks asked in a hushed voice. "Voldemort?"

"No one else could have done this," Mad-Eye Moody answered gruffly.

"Yes, it was him," Harry answered simply. "He's gone."

"Gone?" Shacklebolt asked sharply.

"Back to wherever he came from," Harry amended slightly.

Kingsley Shacklebolt and Arthur Weasley moved to take Dumbledore's body from Harry's arms, but Harry held on, shaking his head. He could not let the Headmaster's body go, irrational as he knew it was.

"Harry, we have to take him back -" Arthur said softly.

"To Hogwarts, I know," Harry interrupted, but he still would not surrender the body to anyone else. The child inside of Harry was beginning to scream, a high, continuous wail of pure grief and solitude, but the man holding the Headmaster's body so tightly would no longer surrender to it. Though the ones who loved him best could read the sadness in his eyes, no tears would he let fall, not now. There was so much else that had to be done, so many battles yet unfought. For, as Lupin had said, if Voldemort won the final victory, Dumbledore's death would be in vain. Harry could not let that happen.

Molly, her mind having cleared after finding out that her children were no longer in immediate danger, was moved back to tears at the emotion she knew Harry was trying to hide. As he grasped Dumbledore's body closer to his chest, she moved towards him and gently extended her hand to touch his face. She could still see the tearstains from his moment alone in the clearing with his mentor's body, and her heart went out to him.

"Harry, dear…" she said softly, noticing that he leaned his cheek into her motherly caress even though he seemed unconscious of doing so.

"I'm okay, Mrs. Weasley," Harry said automatically, but just as they had the night that Cedric had been killed, Mrs. Weasley's ministrations were almost enough to cause him to lose what control he had over his emotions. He knew he could not do that now, and he stepped away from her.

Molly's eyes filled with tears, not of hurt for herself because she understood why Harry had retreated, but of hurt for the man who stood before her - the man who should still be a child but who could no longer afford the luxury of childhood. At that moment, she would have given almost anything to restore to him what he had lost.

Mad-Eye Moody watched the exchange without comment, noting that the Aurors and apprentices were gathering around the inner circle, curious and horrified by what they saw and heard. Awed whispers had already begun to spread through their ranks, whispers of the Boy-Who-Lived surviving an attack that even the great Albus Dumbledore had not survived.

Silently, Moody conjured a simple, unadorned pallet that consisted of a stretch of white linen held between long, polished wood posts.

"We will all take him back, lad," he said softly, his voice still gruff but laced with some of the first emotion Harry had ever heard from him.

Harry nodded silently and laid Dumbledore's body on the stretcher, putting his arms on his chest, his wand-hand still clutching the wand which had channeled some of the most powerful magic ever known to wizardkind. Silently, Moody took one end of one of the posts and waited as Harry, Kingsley and Arthur took the other three.

As one, the four men raised the stretcher to the level of their shoulders, and Moody whispered to the remaining Order members before taking out his wand, tapping the stretcher and muttering, "Portus."

Even as he felt the familiar tug under his naval and was lifted away from Hyde Park, Harry never took his eyes off Dumbledore, whose work had finally come to an end.

* * *

  
Moody, Arthur, Kingsley and Harry landed with a soft 'thud' in the Headmaster's office, all having taken special care to land softly without disturbing Dumbledore's stretcher. Harry was not surprised that Professor McGonagall and Ginny were waiting there for him.

Even though Ginny had informed her of Dumbledore's death, McGonagall could not restrain herself from a small gasp of dismay and horror. To hear about it was bad enough; to actually see Dumbledore's still form, his eyes closed and peaceful, his hand still clutched around his wand, was almost unbearable. She and Dumbledore had worked together and maintained a strong friendship for over thirty years. Her mouth tightened as she, just like the others, worked to restrain her emotions.

"It is true, then," she said softly, looking into the grief-laden faces of the makeshift pallbearers.

No one nodded; they did not need to. Again working as one, they set the stretcher gently in the middle of the office, where it hovered evenly in midair. For a few moments, the living occupants of the room stared at the stretcher in silence, but this, like all times of war, afforded little time for mourning.

"We're needed back at the Ministry," Kingsley Shacklebolt said softly and evenly. "There are matters that must be attended to immediately. Arthur? Moody?"

The other two men nodded, and Arthur took a moment to place his hand on Harry's shoulder and to hug his daughter tightly before all three Flooed out of Dumbledore's office. Few words had been said, for what was there to say at a time like this?

Tears were streaming silently down Ginny's face as she moved her gaze back and forth from the Headmaster's still form to Harry's face, and though it was stern and immovable, Ginny could read his grief as easily as if it were an open book.

McGonagall left the room silently for Dumbledore's bedchamber, returning with a dark blue woven blanket. She stood beside the stretcher for a moment that seemed to stretch into eternity, looking into the silent face of the ancient wizard, before she gently covered his body with the blanket.

It was only when the Headmaster's body was covered that Harry was able to tear his gaze away from the stretcher and look into Ginny's eyes, and once again, the concerns of the living entered his mind. In two steps, he had Ginny in his strong arms, rubbing her back as she sobbed into his chest. It was not long before her sobs faded into silence, and just as she had the night so many months ago when he had told his friends about the prophecy, she looked up at him with strength rather than weakness radiating from her brown eyes.

Harry and Ginny did not notice at first as Professor McGonagall pulled a chair from one of the tables and placed it next to the Headmaster's body, sitting next to him with her back ramrod straight and her hands folded in her lap. Her posture was a stern as it ever had been, but as Harry looked into her face, he saw his own grief mirrored there, and he knew that she needed time alone with Dumbledore, just as he had.

"Ginny, is Moony in the hospital wing?" he asked, hoping that his guardian had gone straight to Madam Pomfrey. Ginny nodded, and without another word, Harry took her hand and led her from the office, trying to pretend he didn't hear the strangled sobs coming from behind him as he closed the door softly.

They found Lupin, as they had expected, sitting up in one of the cots in the hospital wing, Madam Pomfrey working busily on his arm. It was clear from the paleness of the nurse's face that Lupin had told her the news, but as always, her patients came first and she worked over him with her usual briskness.

"Harry," Lupin said, trying and failing to smile as Harry and Ginny entered the room.

"Moony," Harry answered, coming up beside his bed.

"Potter," Madam Pomfrey said in her most businesslike tone. "Are you injured? Miss Weasley?"

"I'm not hurt, Madam Pomfrey," Harry answered, "but I think Ginny may need a looking-over."

"I don't," Ginny protested, but it was clear to anyone who looked at her that the effects of being placed under the Cruciatus for so long had not left her unscathed. Even the short walk from the Headmaster's office to the hospital wing had caused her to be short of breath, and her paleness was due to more than grief.

Lupin looked at her shrewdly as he drank a gobletful of steaming potion that smelled faintly of apples. "Ginny," he said seriously after taking a gulp of the liquid, "what happened while you were alone with Voldemort?"

Harry looked at her sharply. He knew from unfortunate experience what happened to people in the company of the Dark Lord, and he remembered her piercing screams with a clarity that tore at his heart.

Ginny didn't answer, but her face grew even paler at the memory. Without another word, Madam Pomfrey handed her a pair of pajamas and pointed to a screen set up in the corner of the room, her face set and resolute.

With a sigh, Ginny went to change. She knew that if Lupin, Harry and the Hogwarts nurse insisted that she be checked over, arguments would be of little use. She had not yet emerged from behind the screen and Madam Pomfrey was preparing the bed next to Lupin for her when Molly Weasley burst into the room, her frayed and dirty robes flying behind her as she rushed to Harry's side.

"Harry," she said breathlessly, hugging him. "Where's Ginny? Where's my baby? I've come from the Ministry. Percy said that she was captured by Voldemort himself! Where is she?"

"I'm here, Mum," Ginny said tiredly as she emerged from behind the modesty screen clad in the traditional white hospital pajamas Madam Pomfrey had provided.

Mrs. Weasley took one look at her daughter, and, choking back her tears, went to her side and helped her into the cot Madam Pomfrey had prepared. She worked busily at the covers, tucking them securely around Ginny's legs and kissed her daughter tenderly on the forehead before turning to the nurse.

"What needs to be done?" she said, not letting a single waver betray itself in her voice.

"Miss Weasley has likely been exposed to the Cruciatus Curse," Madam Pomfrey answered, looking at Ginny's face for confirmation as she said this. When Ginny nodded silently, she continued. "I have several potions that will put her to rights, but she will need her rest."

Molly nodded, her eyes having filled with tears upon Ginny's mute confirmation of what she had been through, and sat down on the bed next to her daughter, pulling her close as they waited for Madam Pomfrey to retrieve the potions from the store cabinet in her office.

Ginny obediently drank from three separate phials, not once questioning her mother's or Madam Pomfrey's orders, though under other circumstances, she would have done so. The truth was that her body was still sore from the curses and the ensuing battle, and she was weary to her very core with grief and shock. This was one time when the comfort of her mother's arms and the competence of the nurse brought her more solace than irritation.

Harry came to the other side of her bed, taking hold of her hand in one of his and stroking her face softly with the other. It quickly became clear that one of the phials had contained a Dreamless Sleep Potion, as Ginny's eyes grew heavy within seconds of consuming its contents. Her mother lowered her softly onto the fluffy pillow, and Harry kissed her lips tenderly as she fell into sleep.

He turned back to Lupin's bed. "Are you all right, Moony?" he asked seriously.

Lupin held up his arm, which was already showing signs of healing. "I'll be fine, Harry," he answered. "How are you?"

Harry knew without question that this was one of the times when his guardian wanted an honest answer, and for once, he gave it. "I'll be all right," he answered.

Lupin saw that Harry spoke the truth, and that he had not attempted to pretend that he was fine at the moment. He nodded. "Where are you going to go now?"

"To St. Mungo's," Harry answered. Now that he had brought Dumbledore home and seen to Ginny's care, he wanted nothing more than to be with Hermione. His fear for her had not once really left his mind since Ron had taken her in the alleyway.

Lupin nodded, and Mrs. Weasley spoke from behind them.

"Send word, Harry, please," she whispered, for though she had never taken as much of a parental role with Hermione, who had parents who cared for her very much, she had still come to love her over the years. She knew Hermione's loss would be more than anyone could bear, and she hoped with the desperate hope of a mother that the young girl would recover.

"Harry, do you have your amulet?" Lupin asked suddenly as Harry turned to leave.

Harry did not have it. He had purposefully left it behind that morning, not wanting to take even the slightest chance that he would be discovered before he had done what he needed to do. "No, Moony," he answered. "I…forgot it this morning."

Lupin didn't comment about that, knowing that Harry had left the amulet intentionally behind but understanding why he had done it. "I'd appreciate it if you'd go get it," he said simply. "I'd like for us to be able to communicate."

Harry nodded and strode out of the hospital wing without looking back. He walked quickly to the Gryffindor Common Room, intending only to run up to his dormitory, retrieve the amulet, and go back to the Head's office to use the Floo network. He wished that he did not have to run this particular errand, for he knew that at this hour on a Sunday the Common Room would be filled with students, but he could not think of any other options. Lupin was right; dependent upon what had happened at the Ministry while most of the Aurors were battling the Death Eaters in Hyde Park, the amulet could well be the only safe mode of communication for the time being, and it would certainly be the quickest way to get word back and forth.

The Gryffindor Common room, as he had predicted, was noisy and filled with boisterous students celebrating the end of term, the fifth and seventh years having sought quieter areas in which to cram for their OWLs and NEWTs. All but three seemed to be in perfect spirits, but Neville Longbottom, Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnegan looked gravely at Harry as he entered through the portrait hole. It was easily apparent that they had been waiting for him or the others to return, and they did not miss his appearance.

The Common Room grew steadily quieter as Harry walked through the groups of students. He was filthy and sweaty, his robes torn and bloodstained, the pain and stress in his face undeniable. The silence grew complete as students pointed him out to their friends.

"What happened, Harry?" Neville asked him softly, intercepting him as he crossed to the staircase that led to the boys' dormitories.

Harry ignored the question. "I've got to get something from upstairs," he said abruptly, leaving them behind.

The three boys looked at one another as Harry hurried up the stairs. Given all that had happened and had been said over the course of the school year, Seamus felt quite awkward in Harry's presence, but after seeing the Headmaster this morning, he could not help but be anxious and curious about what had happened.

"What happened?" Neville asked again when Harry came back down, and they were all conscious of many sets of ears trying to hear his reply in the silent common room.

"There was a battle," Harry answered simply. He was not going to speak of Dumbledore right now, not like this, in the middle of a group of students in which most had no idea that the world had gone so badly awry.

It was plain to everyone that the battle had not been a small one. In and of itself, the fact that Harry had entered the room on his own rather than with Ron, Hermione or Ginny meant that the situation must have been very grave indeed.

"Where are the others, Harry?" Dean asked worriedly. It was not like any of them to come back alone after something like this had happened.

Harry knew he had to answer Dean's question. He sighed. "Ginny's in the hospital wing," he began, and seeing the looks on everyone's faces, continued, "she's resting, but she will be okay. Hermione's at St. Mungo's. That's where I'm going, and I don't know how she is. Ron's with her, but he's fine."

The common room broke out in loud chatter as Harry finished his statement. Hermione Granger was in St. Mungo's? They all knew that if she had gone there rather than returning to the Hogwarts hospital wing, she had been injured badly.

"Harry!" someone called from the back of the room. "Was it You-Know-Who, Harry?"

Harry didn't reply. He was glad that no one had even thought to ask him about Professor Dumbledore.

"Harry, what happened? Is Hermione going to be okay?"

"Harry!"

"Harry!"

Just as Harry was about to leave, a magically magnified announcement broke through the noise in the common room, sending the students once more into silence.

"Attention all Hogwarts students," said the voice of Professor McGonagall, and several students gasped at the gravity of her tone, the more perceptive ones hearing the note of sadness as well. "You are asked at this time to go to your dormitories and pack all of your belongings into your trunks and prepare for immediate departure from school. In thirty minutes time, there will be an assembly held in the Great Hall. All students are required to be in attendance."

The common room grew loud again as the students ran towards their dormitories in a state of extreme alarm, calling to one another loudly as they went.

"Go on," Harry said to Dean, Seamus and Neville as the common room cleared. "I've got to leave."

"But McGonagall," Dean said uncertainly. He had never known anyone to directly disobey such a serious command from the Deputy Headmistress.

"She knows," Harry said simply. "Go on."

Without another word, he walked purposefully back toward the portrait hole and left the now-panicked students of Gryffindor House behind.

Harry reached the Head's office as quickly as he could. The hallways were unnaturally empty, as all the students had gone back to their dormitories to pack and prepare for the assembly, and he kept his thoughts focused on Hermione as he said the password and ascended the rotating staircase.

But for Dumbledore's body floating serenely on its stretcher, the room was empty. Professor McGonagall had obviously needed to confer with the rest of the staff and possibly the school governors before making the decision to close school early, but Harry couldn't quell a slight uncomfortable feeling that Dumbledore's body had been left alone. It did not take him long, however, to realize that the office was not as empty as he had thought it was.

Fawkes, in all his scarlet splendor, was perched on the back of the chair previously occupied by Professor McGonagall, but he was not singing. He looked mournfully at Harry as he entered the room, and the stark sadness of the bird's stare cut him to the quick. Briefly, Harry wondered where Fawkes would go, but he wrenched his mind back to his destination. Fawkes would see to it that Dumbledore rested peacefully. Harry had to get to Ron and Hermione.

With one last, long look at the phoenix, Harry took some Floo powder from the small blue pot on the mantle, said "St. Mungo's" in a clear voice, and disappeared in a whoosh of green flame.

* * *

  
St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries was in a state approaching chaos. It was obvious to Harry as soon as he emerged from one of the three grates in the main waiting area of the hospital that news of the battle and Dumbledore's death had already spread like wildfire through the families of the sick and injured witches and wizards, both those who were already in St. Mungo's and those who had been injured in the battle itself.

Harry's part of it had obviously not gone unnoticed, for as the panicked people in the waiting room caught a glimpse of him, the anxious chatter died down into whispers. He could hear both his name and "the Boy-Who-Lived" being muttered in awed tones as he passed the huddled groups of people, but he paid them no heed, striding purposefully toward the information desk at the entrance to the main wards.

The plump blonde welcome witch behind the desk looked stressed and harassed. "For the last time," she said in an anxious voice, not looking up from her parchment list of patients and their room numbers, "I don't know any more than you -"

She broke off suddenly as she looked up and immediately realized who she was talking to.

"Harry Potter!" she gasped.

"I'm here to see Hermione Granger," Harry said clearly, in a tone that left no room for argument.

"But - how did you…and is it true?" the witch gasped, and Harry at once realized the difference in the atmospheres between St. Mungo's and Hogwarts. At Hogwarts, the overall tone of the people who had known of Dumbledore's passing had been one of grief and mourning; here, where people had not known and perhaps not even met the great wizard since their own school days, the air was thick with tension and fear. If the greatest wizard of the age had fallen, what hope could be left?

"Hermione Granger," Harry repeated.

"Of course," the witch muttered rudely when she realized she would be getting no inside information from him. "Fourth floor, Spell Damage." She gestured to the large sign behind her, mapping the different wards of the hospital.

"Thank you," Harry said shortly as he proceeded through the doors and up the stairs to the same ward in which George had been hospitalized following the attack on Weasley's Wizard Wheezes.

As he emerged from the staircase, Ron was the first person he saw. Although his best friend's head was buried in his hands, he was easily recognizable from his bright, Weasley-red hair, and a stab of fear pierced through Harry like a knife when he saw Ron's posture. Surely, Hermione wasn't…she couldn't be…

"Ron!" he called, hurrying across the room.

Ron looked up, and then quickly stood as Harry approached him.

"How's Hermione?" Harry asked, fearing the answer.

"She lost a lot of blood," Ron said in a low voice. "He hit her with a splitting spell, and there was something else to it that they can't figure out. She's sleeping now, while they work on her. They said they'd call me…" His voice trailed off.

"She's going to be okay, isn't she?" Harry asked, his heart sinking.

"They say that there isn't anything wrong they can't fix," Ron said, and Harry brightened slightly. "It's like Dad; it's just a matter of time." Ron looked around the room. "Harry, where is everyone else?"

"Dunno," Harry said. "Your mum's in the hospital wing with Ginny. Don't worry, she's going to be fine, Madam Pomfrey gave her some potions and said she needed rest," he added quickly, seeing the look of alarm on Ron's face. "Percy's at the Ministry. Someone had to tell them…"

"About Professor Dumbledore," Ron finished, looking down at his feet. Since learning that Hermione would recover, he had been able to think about little else as he waited for news. Ron had never seen anyone's death, and he didn't think he would ever forget the way Dumbledore had looked when he fell.

"Yes," Harry answered, his own grief attempting to well back up inside him. For a moment, both of them were silent.

"Where are my dad, Mr. Shacklebolt, and Tonks?" Ron broke the silence, running down the list of Order members he knew, dreading that Dumbledore had not been the only casualty that day.

"They're all okay," Harry answered. "They're at the Ministry trying to sort things out."

Just then, a young Healer approached them, a kind smile on her face. "Your friend is awake now," she said gently. "You may see her for a few moments if you would like."

Ron and Harry both nodded and followed the Healer through the double doors, but stopped when they reached the entrance to Hermione's room, looking at each other in sudden horror.

"Hermione fell before Dumbledore," Harry whispered. "She doesn't know yet."

"We can't upset her," Ron answered uncertainly.

"We have to tell her; she can't find out from someone else," Harry replied. "It's all over the hospital. If we don't tell her -"

"She already knows," the Healer told them gently. She had talked at great length with Hermione as she had woken up and had heard the entire tale. She could hardly believe what had happened, and that Harry Potter was standing in front of her after a confrontation like that, virtually uninjured.

"How did she find out?" Harry demanded. He did not like the idea of Dumbledore's fall being passed around like a casual rumor.

"I told her myself," the Healer said. "I wished to monitor her carefully during that news, and I feared she would hear it from another patient or visitor. She asked me a great many questions."

"That's Hermione," Ron said with the merest trace of a smile.

Harry nodded. He could understand why the Healer would have wanted to tell Hermione herself, and he liked the young witch, and trusted that she would not have passed the news casually.

"Go on in," the Healer urged, knowing that all three would be better off when they were together again. Such a terrible burden for such young hearts, she thought as she turned to tend to another patient. She meant Dumbledore's passing and the fact that the two young men had seen it; if she had known the true burden placed upon Harry Potter and his friends, her sympathetic heart would have nearly broken.

Ron crossed to Hermione's bed, which was situated between two others, each containing a sleeping patient. The only other occupant of the room, an old woman with the beginnings of a gray moustache, seemed to be content in muttering to herself and had no interest in the newcomers.

"Hi," he said softly, stooping to kiss her brow.

"Hi, Ron," she replied, her voice wavering. "Ron, Harry, is it true?" she asked, almost desperately.

"It's true, Hermione," Harry said, coming to the side of her bed, his voice breaking for the first time since he had brought Dumbledore's body back to the others.

Hermione's soft sobs and the muttering of the old witch in the corner were the only sounds in the room for several minutes. Ron held Hermione as she cried, and Harry stood awkwardly to the side, not sure where he should look or what he should do.

"What do we do now?" Hermione asked, sniffing away the remainder of her sobs and wiping her eyes with a tissue from the stand beside her bed.

"You've got to get better before we do anything else," Ron said softly, sounding a bit like Mrs. Weasley.

"They're going to let me go tomorrow," Hermione responded, "once my blood gets replenished and I've taken enough of the other potions to fix everything else."

"What else was it?" Harry asked, knowing there was no end to the evil that could be perpetrated by Voldemort.

"It could have been one of several things," Hermione said, sounding more like herself. "The most likely is that there was an aspect to the spell that was meant to hamper healing."

"Like Mr. Weasley's snake bite," Harry muttered, wondering just how linked Voldemort and his familiar, Nagini, actually were.

"That's actually what I thought, Harry," Hermione said. "It seems like part of the spell might have had the same effects as snake venom, but they can't be sure. However, the cut is healing, so the potions they are giving me appear to be working."

"That's good," Harry said bracingly.

"When will his funeral be?" Hermione asked softly.

"I don't know," Harry replied. "I guess it won't be long. They've closed the school."

Hermione gasped. "They haven't! What about OWLs and NEWTs?"

Ron rolled his eyes.

"There are more important things going on here, Hermione," Harry said seriously, the magnitude of what had happened starting to come into focus through his grief. "Imelda Arnold has been spying inside the ministry for months. There is no telling what kind of information Voldemort has gotten. Think about it, Hermione, the Department of Mysteries, the Hall of Prophecy…and now, Dumbledore…Hogwarts isn't nearly as safe without him." Harry said the last part with difficulty.

Hermione's chin wobbled and it was a sign that she understood the gravity of the situation when she nodded in agreement. "What are we going to do?" she repeated.

"Right now, we've got to get you well," Ron said. "We'll figure out the rest as it comes."

"Nothing's the same now, is it?" Hermione asked.

"No," Harry answered, fixing both of them with his most serious stare. "Nothing will ever be the same again."

Ron and Hermione looked at one another in amazement, not knowing that Lupin and Ginny had both already witnessed what they were now sensing from Harry: that the aura of power surrounding him was becoming nearly palpable in its potency. The Healer standing outside may not have known it, the other students at Hogwarts may not have known it, and Harry himself may not have known it, but Ron and Hermione now understood what Dumbledore himself had realized months before: that Harry had within him all the power he would need to finally defeat Voldemort forever. The end would not be long in coming now.

* * *

  
Dumbledore's funeral took place two days after his death, midmorning of the Tuesday that should have marked the beginning of the OWL and NEWT exams. Though all Hogwarts students had been extended an invitation, few would be in attendance; the parents of most of the students had agreed with the school governors and the new Headmistress that the safest place for their students was at home. Though most had felt quite safe when Albus Dumbledore had held the school in his charge, and though almost everyone felt that Minerva McGonagall would be an able Headmistress, there was no denying that the old Headmaster's death had caused no small amount of panic in the wizarding world. Families were huddling together in their homes, certain that end must be near, and even the funeral of the greatest wizard of the age was not enough to get most of them out.

Harry, of course, had not left Hogwarts. Hermione had been released from St. Mungo's and Ginny and Lupin from the Hogwarts hospital wing, and they had remained with many of the other Order members, who had taken over Gryffindor tower in the absence of the students. At their mother's insistence, Percy and George had closed the shop until after the funeral. It had not taken much persuasion; given all that had happened, they had agreed that it was more respectful to do so, and all of the Weasleys felt an indescribable need to be close to one another. Tonks, Lupin, Mad-Eye Moody and Kingsley Shacklebolt had also taken up residence in the Tower, and Harry suspected that they were there to be a line of defense for him if the wards were not enough to keep Voldemort out of the castle. He could not find it in himself to mind very much, however.

Harry had lived the past two days in a sort of fog, waking up each morning after restless sleep with reality hitting him like a ton of bricks. He could think of nothing but how to best end this war, how he was going to find what he needed to defeat Voldemort so that nothing like this could happen again. How could he ever do it without Dumbledore? For though the other members of the Order had given him what tools they could, Harry knew that the key to this had been in the Headmaster's hands, and it had something to do with that ring, the one which had ultimately cost Dumbledore his life.

What had Dumbledore been doing on the day of the battle? What had been worth weakening himself so badly that he had become an open target? Every time Harry thought of these questions, the realization that he would never be able to ask Dumbledore these questions, that he would never be able to talk to him again, brought the grief back up to the surface and he would once again have to fight to quell it.

Fawkes had not once left his perch in the Head's office next to Dumbledore's body. He watched silently as preparations were made for burial, as the stretcher was replaced by a long, mahogany casket. He watched silently as the people closest to Dumbledore came into the office at all hours of the day and night to sit with the body. He watched silently as tears ran down their faces to be replaced by looks, in most cases, of stoicism and fortitude. And finally, when the pallbearers came on Tuesday morning to bear the casket down to the grounds for the funeral, Fawkes trilled a single, heartbroken note of farewell and soared out the office window.

"Are you ready, Harry?" Ginny asked softly as they all met in the common room, dressed in their best black robes with somber looks on every face.

Harry nodded silently, watching as Mr. and Mrs. Weasley came down the stairs from the boys' side of the dormitories. They had taken over the seventh-year boys' room, since Mr. Weasley was obviously unable to ascend the staircase on the girls' side. Mrs. Weasley, Harry noticed, looked thinner and paler than she had in a long time, and he knew that she was worried sick about her family. She had been since Fred had died, but now that the war had finally escalated into full-force, she lived with the almost-crushing fear a hundred times over. Mr. Weasley, as it happened, had had to convince her that morning to leave the family clock in the dormitory where she had placed it the night before.

When everyone was assembled, they all climbed through the portrait hole and proceeded silently and somberly down to the grounds in front of the lake. The four pallbearers; Rubeus Hagrid, Mad-Eye Moody, Remus Lupin and a man that Harry recognized as the barman from the Hog's Head; were about halfway to the platform as they quietly took seats near the front, and Harry could not tear his eyes away from the intricately carved dark wood of Dumbledore's coffin. Even now, after two days, it seemed impossible to believe that his mentor's body was inside that box, that he was really, finally gone.

The assemblage was small, and Harry felt it was better that way. The people who loved Dumbledore best were all there, as well as some that Harry did not recognize: an enormously fat, pompous-looking wizard, several older and venerable-looking witches, and some that Harry recognized as being from the Wizengamot. All of the Hogwarts professors were there of course, with the exception, Harry noticed with bitterness, of Severus Snape. Rosemerta, the barmaid from the Three Broomsticks, was there, dabbing at her pretty eyes with a soft-looking gold handkerchief.

All-in-all, fewer than fifty people had assembled for the funeral, and when all had been seated the old barman from the Hog's Head approached the front. As he turned and faced them all, Harry realized with a start that the surly old man to whom he had never paid much attention bore a startling resemblance to the Headmaster, and he was not surprised when the man opened his speech in a gravelly voice, "For those of you who have not met me, my name is Aberforth Dumbledore. Albus was my brother."

This news did not seem to be a surprise to most of the mourners, but Harry heard a small intake of breath next to him, and Ginny squeezed his hand in surprise. From her other side, Ron also started a bit, but Hermione said under her breath, "I knew it!"

Before Aberforth continued with his speech, however, a clear note trilled above the grounds, and Fawkes suddenly appeared in a burst of flame and landed softly on his shoulder. A murmur of surprise and appreciation ran through the crowd, and Aberforth took a moment to lightly stroke the bird's head, continuing in a much stronger voice, "Albus was a man to whom all aspects of life were sacred. He was held as the greatest wizard of our time, and I'll certainly not argue with that. The only question in my mind is how he could have been the brother of a bumbling idiot such as myself."

A smattering of laughter rang softly through the assemblage like a snippet of a forgotten song, and Harry suddenly remembered Dumbledore referring to a time in which his brother had been arrested for practicing inappropriate charms on a goat. Was this the same brother? As Harry looked at the man standing in front of them all, he saw a familiar twinkle enter and then leave the same clear-blue eyes as the ones that he had known so well, and he knew beyond a doubt that it was.

Aberforth continued, "You'll not hear me going on about how great a wizard Al was, because you all already know that. The man I want to remember today is the brother I've known all my life.

"From an early age, Albus was what you might have called a rather odd chap, always curious about things, always wanting to know the whys and wherefores of everything that went on around us. I have to tell you all that he drove our poor mum nearly to distraction before he even went to Hogwarts, asking questions that no wizard or witch in their right mind would even pretend to be able to answer."

Again, a short note of laughter passed through the crowd, but Harry remained silent, fascinated by this unexpected view of Professor Dumbledore as a child.

"Our Dad was always proudest of him, though, and I remember the day he went off to school with his trunk and his new robes. I was so jealous, because they gave him his very own owl and because he got to have a wand before I was allowed to have one. This was before the time of the Hogwarts Express, see, and before all these newfangled restrictions on what wizards could and could not do with what they call 'Muggle artifacts.'"

At this, Harry could not help but glance at Mr. Weasley. Although his face remained somber the corners of his mouth were twitching, and Harry had a feeling that he knew what was coming next.

"We all rode to the gates of the school on a carpet that easily sat the four of us," Aberforth continued reminiscently. "An Axminster, I believe it was, and I still have the old thing in a shed out beyond the pub."

Mr. Weasley's mouth continued to twitch in the way that it always did before he had a chuckle, and despite himself, Harry felt his spirits beginning to rise.

"Anyway, I expect you all know how Albus's school years went. Always the first in his class, he was, and I think our mum and dad were a bit disappointed when I didn't follow in his footsteps. Head Boy, of course, and a right fine Quidditch player to boot. I think he was the last first-year to be taken onto a House Team for a very long time indeed, a century or more."

At this, Harry's face split into a wide grin and he heard Ginny giggle softly next to him. He'd had no idea that Dumbledore had played Quidditch or that he'd been last first-year to be accepted onto a House Team before he, Harry, had been. He suddenly had an image of Dumbledore on a Firebolt, his long gray beard and heavy robes trailing behind him as he went in pursuit of the Golden Snitch. Somehow, he just knew that the Headmaster had been a Seeker just as he was. In his delight at this bit of information, he did not notice that Aberforth's eyes had flicked over to look straight at him, as if he knew something that no one else in the crowd knew.

Aberforth Dumbledore's gravelly voice now held the entire crowd entranced as though they were under some sort of spell.

"He spent a great deal of years after his school days going this way and that, making friends with the most famous witches and wizards of our time. I think my mum nearly burst with pride when he earned his first bit of fame for his work with that old dotard Nick Flamel. I'd opened the Hog's Head by then and gotten into a fair bit of trouble along the way, and I always got the feeling that mum and dad wished I was just a bit more like my brother."

Another smattering of laughter rang out, and Harry once again thought of the arrest for inappropriate charms on a goat. Had Aberforth been doing something mischievous, or had he simply been trying to live up to a name which had begun to become famous?

"After that, of course, times got dark as they always do, and Albus was always in the middle of every fight," Aberforth continued, his expression darkening. "We had our own Dark Wizard back then, an old bugger by the name of Grindelwald. Some of you won't have been around in those times, but I'll tell you they were quite as dark as things seem to be now."

Here, he paused for a moment, and this time Harry could feel those familiar blue eyes boring straight into him.

"Our mum and dad both died soon after Al kicked old Grindelwald's arse in 1945, but they died happy, knowing that at least one of their sons had made a difference in the world. The Muggles even felt the effects of that one, they did, because Grindelwald's counterpart, a squirrelly little Squib by the name of Adolf Hitler, kicked the bucket soon after."

Harry's mouth dropped open. How come he had never made that connection before? Dumbledore's chocolate frog card had mentioned the fall of Grindelwald in 1945, but Harry had paid scant attention to it. He wondered now how Grindelwald compared to Voldemort and who, if Voldemort were defeated, the next Dark Lord would be.

"You see," Aberforth continued, again glancing at Harry, "Albus always held one conviction to be entirely true, regardless of anything else that happened in the wide world, Wizarding or Muggle."

Here, Harry sat up a bit straighter. Maybe here would be a clue to the defeat of Voldemort. Maybe Professor Dumbledore had shared something with his brother before he had died.

"Albus always believed that good would win in the end," Aberforth said definitely, now speaking straight at Harry, as though no one else were in attendance. "He never let the idea that evil was stronger bring him down, and he never believed there was a task worth doing that couldn't be done with enough study and work. It was that belief that made him not only one of the greatest wizards of our time, but one of the greatest men."

Harry heard several sniffles throughout the mourners now, and he noticed that Professor McGonagall was weeping openly, something he had never seen her do before. As if the old man at the front had given him some sort of permission, Harry, too, allowed his tears to drip freely down his face as he had done in the clearing at Hyde Park, and his grip on Ginny's hand tightened when he saw that she, too, was crying.

"Now," Aberforth said gruffly, his own scratchy voice filling with emotion. "Al wouldn't want you all to remember him with tears. You've got your own tasks now, and if he's done anything to help you out in the fight of your own generation, remember it and be glad of it, for he was not the only great man in the world." As he said this last bit, he once again looked straight at Harry and this time, several of the mourners gazed at him as well.

Before he took his place on the front row of wooden chairs, Aberforth pointed his wand towards Dumbledore's coffin and lowered it slowly into the grave which had been prepared for it the day before. Stooping down with some difficulty, he grasped a handful of freshly-turned earth and tossed it in after. Harry's heart heaved slightly as he heard it land with a definite 'thud,' marking the consecration of the Headmaster's body back to the earth.


	40. Onward

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Join Harry in the final chapter of this sixth-year fic as he says goodbye both to his mentor and to the last vestiges of his childhood.

Harry, Ginny, Ron and Hermione hung back as the mourners filed one by one to drop their handfuls of earth into Dumbledore's grave. Even when Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and the rest of the Order of the Phoenix went forward, they remained standing in front of their seats, mute grief on their faces as they watched the procession.  
  
Only when the last of the adults had gone forward did they finally move. Hermione, tears dripping freely down her face, scooped a handful of earth in a shaking hand, whispering "goodbye" as she filed past, and Ron went right after her, saying nothing. Ginny squeezed Harry's hand before she released it to take her turn. Like Hermione, she whispered an almost inaudible farewell to the Headmaster and then joined her brother while they waited for Harry to pay his final respects.  
  
Like the others, Harry stooped at the graveside, but as he tossed his earth into the grave, he dropped to his knees. "What do I do now?" he whispered, as though his mentor might hear him and provide the answers on which Harry had always depended.  
  
"You keep fighting," said an unexpected voice from behind him, the same gravelly voice which had held each of the mourners transfixed during the eulogy.  
  
"Aber - " Harry began, and then corrected himself, "I mean, Mr. - "  
  
Neither option seemed to be correct. Harry could not even consider calling a wizard as old as the man standing beside him by his first name, but calling him "Dumbledore" in any fashion also seemed to be very wrong.  
  
"You can call me by my first name, lad," Aberforth said softly, easily reading Harry's dilemma.  
  
Harry nodded mutely, still on his knees in the freshly turned earth, his head bowed slightly toward the grave.  
  
"Will you look up at me?" the old man continued.  
  
Harry complied, tearing his eyes away from the coffin, so deep in the ground and covered in a thin brown layer of soil. When he looked up he saw, for the first time since he had looked into Professor McGonagall's face the night of Dumbledore's death, a grief which mirrored his own in intensity.  
  
"I'm…" Harry stammered, not at all sure what he was supposed to say. "I'm…so sorry," he muttered, the words sounding hollow in his ears. He could still not quite wrap his mind around the fact that the man standing next to him had been Professor Dumbledore's brother, had grown up with him, had given and received confidences for over a century.  
  
"You've nothing to be sorry for, Harry Potter," Aberforth said, tentatively extending his hand towards Harry's shoulder as though he meant to comfort the young wizard.  
  
"You know me?" Harry asked with a bit of surprise. He was used to being recognized by his scar, but he didn't see how the old wizard could have seen it, for it was covered almost entirely by his fringe and they had not been in close proximity during the funeral.  
  
"That I do," Aberforth said quietly, making up his mind and continuing to reach out until he had placed his gnarled hand on Harry's shoulder, squeezing it gently in a gesture of shared pain. "Al spoke of you often, right up from when you were born. I'd know you anywhere, and I daresay you've been in my pub more than once."  
  
 _Of course he knows me_ , Harry thought, feeling stupid. Hadn't Aberforth been there, right behind the bar, during the first meeting of the D.A. the previous year? Because Harry had not known who he was, he had not paid much attention to the old barman, who had seemed, at the time, to be insignificant.  
  
"Harry?" asked Ginny softly, coming up next to him.  
  
Without thinking about it, Harry reached up and took her hand, pulling slightly against her as he stood.  
  
"Ab - Aberforth?" Harry said, trying out the sound of the new name. "This is Ginny Weasley."  
  
"I'd recognize a Weasley anywhere," Aberforth said. "No, lass, not by your hair," he continued before Ginny could comment. "It's the eyes. You have the same eyes as your father and grandmother, who was an old friend of mine."  
  
Ginny smiled slightly. Most people were so taken by the flaming red Weasley hair that they failed to notice other similarities. Aberforth Dumbledore was right; she did share her father's and grandmother's eyes. Molly had said so often.  
  
"I wonder if I might have a word with Harry," Aberforth continued, looking to Ginny as if for permission.  
  
"Harry?" Ginny asked softly, squeezing his hand. "The rest of us were going to go back to the tower to have some lunch and get ready to go. You could meet us later."  
  
"Where's Moony?" Harry asked, surprised that his guardian had not found him by now.  
  
"He was talking to that, erm, large wizard we saw earlier," Ginny said, trying to be tactful. "I'll let him know where you are."  
  
Suddenly, she pulled him close and whispered in his ear, "You don't have to, Harry. If you want to wait for another day to do this, that's okay. He'll understand, you know."  
  
Harry shook his head slightly. After hearing Aberforth Dumbledore's speech at the funeral, he could not shake the idea that the old wizard knew more than he was letting on. If he, Harry, was meant to end this war, he needed all the information he could get. Everything else, even mourning, had to come second to his mission now.  
  
"I'm all right, Ginny," he said quietly, kissing her softly on the cheek and releasing her. "Tell Moony and the others that I'll be along a bit later."  
  
Ginny nodded. "I love you," she said softly.  
  
"Me too," Harry responded as she went to join her parents and brothers. He turned to Aberforth, a sense of expectancy driving his movements. "Where do you want to go?" he asked.  
  
"The best place would be my pub," Aberforth said seriously. "Naught goes on there but that I know about it."  
  
"You don't want to go to the castle?" Harry asked. If Aberforth had something to tell him that required privacy, Harry could not imagine that the Hog's Head, known to attract the more questionable members of the magical community, could possibly be more secure than Hogwarts.  
  
"Hogwarts was his place," Aberforth responded gruffly, a catch in his voice. He took a moment to recover before he continued, "The Hog's Head is mine. It'll be safe enough, I warrant. I know a few tricks myself. No great wizard am I," he added hurriedly, catching Harry's expression, "but you can't be around as long as I have and have a brother like Al and not pick up a few things along the way. Can you apparate?"  
  
Harry nodded, but felt compelled to add, "I don't have a license yet. My birthday's not until July."  
  
"If everything I've heard is true, you don't set much store by the rules when there's something that needs to be done," Aberforth commented, and Harry was startled once again to see that familiar twinkle light his eyes, so like the eyes of his brother.  
  
"Well, erm," Harry said, not sure how to respond. "I guess not."  
  
"Good," Aberforth told him definitely. "I've never been one to follow a bunch of cockamamie rules either. Out to the gate, then?"  
  
Harry nodded, but before he left the grounds, he turned to look at the grave one more time.  
  
Fawkes had left Aberforth's shoulder and had perched at the very edge of the grave, singing a slow melody, and allowing pearly tears to drip from his eyes and onto the coffin six feet below him. After a few moments, he looked up at Harry.  
  
"Hello, Fawkes," Harry said softly, not even sure that the bird would hear him. The notes of Fawkes's song dwindled to silence, and the bird looked back and forth from Harry to Aberforth, seeming as though he were trying to make up his mind about something. Before either of them could do anything, however, Fawkes disappeared in a burst of orange flame.  
  
Harry looked at the ground on the edge of the grave, expecting to see pile of ashes out of which the baby phoenix would emerge, but there was nothing. He felt a hand on his shoulder once again.  
  
"He'll be going to mourn in his own way," Aberforth said, his gravelly voice once again laced with emotion. "He'll come back, for a while at least." He seemed to mentally gather himself again. "You ready, lad?"  
  
Harry nodded, tearing his gaze once again away from the grave which would most likely be filled and marked by the time he returned to the grounds. He noticed that Aberforth, too, seemed to have a hard time turning his back, but they both managed, and they walked toward the gate in silence.  
  
When they reached the gates and the Apparation point just beyond them, Aberforth turned to Harry with a hint of the twinkle in his eyes once again. "Just don't splinch yourself," he cautioned. "Fastest way to get caught, that is."  
  
Harry had a feeling that Aberforth knew quite a lot about being caught breaking rules and laws, and he nodded with a slight smile. He already liked Dumbledore's brother quite a lot.  
  
"There's a good spot right behind my pub," Aberforth said. "Nice and hidden."  
  
Harry concentrated on the three D's, tempted to simply follow Aberforth as he had done Ginny and Lupin two days before, but unsure of whether that was a good idea. Harry had a strong relationship with the other two, which made a big difference when one was attempting Follow-Along Apparation. Remembering Aberforth's caution about splinching himself, Harry decided that simple apparation would be safer.  
  
After a few moments of being pulled through the vacuum of the space-time continuum, Harry arrived in one piece behind the pub, and he looked around in undisguised surprise.  
  
"Not what you expected from the front half, is it?" Aberforth commented as he appeared beside Harry.  
  
It was certainly not what Harry had expected. The front of the Hog's Head had been filthy and unkempt, and if someone kept the front of his establishment in such a state, Harry could have only imagined that the back would have been even worse. As he looked around, however, he began forming a new opinion of the old wizard beside him. Apparently, the Hog's Head was a front of some sort, and was unkempt for a carefully calculated reason. In the back garden, Harry saw no evidence of the surly, careless barman he had thought Aberforth to be.  
  
The whole garden was alive with color and fragrance, with different shades and types of flowers, both ordinary and magical, growing without rhyme or reason along the back of the pub and beside a small stone path that wended its way through to a small wooden shed, painted brightly. The flowers, though they had been given leave to grow where they would, were not encumbered by weeds. Harry could tell that Aberforth must have spent a great deal of time pottering around out here.  
  
"Nice, isn't it?" Aberforth asked. "Al used to come out when things were getting tough at the school. Said he liked the sounds and the smells, and no one bothered him 'round here. There's wards put up, see?" He pointed to the corners of the garden as thought Harry might be able to glimpse the invisible enchantments which hid this solitary refuge from the world. "No one can come back here but that I give 'em leave to, not even Al. 'Course, he never had much of a green thumb, so I let him come whenever he wanted to, seeing as how it was one thing I could offer him in return for everything he done for me."  
  
Harry strongly suspected that Albus Dumbledore would have had no problem breaching any of the wards put in place by his brother, but he also knew that the Headmaster never would have considered doing such a thing. He did wonder at Aberforth's statement that 'Al' had never had a green thumb. Harry had never before considered that there might have been anything at which Professor Dumbledore didn't excel, but now that he thought about it, there had been nothing growing in the Head's office, not even a pot of flowers or an ivy.  
  
Aberforth cut into Harry's thoughts, saying easily, "Well, now, that's not to say he wouldn't have been a good enough gardener if he'd set himself to do it, but Al always had his mind on higher things, you know?" His voice caught again as he talked about his brother. He had not yet reconciled himself to a life without him.  
  
"Yeah," Harry replied softly. He could certainly see how Dumbledore would not have had time to care for a garden such as this one, and he could also easily see why the Headmaster would have wanted to come here when things were tense at the school or the Ministry. The very atmosphere exuded serenity, and Harry could feel himself relaxing for the first time in weeks.  
  
"Would you like to sit out here?" Aberforth asked, and Harry nodded again. "Right, then, I'll just nip inside and get us some tea and a few other things." He walked to the back door of the pub, which was painted a rich, purplish blue, and it was easily apparent that he didn't mean to hurry. Perhaps it was the calming influence of the garden, but Harry could not find it within himself to mind very much. After all, what pressing appointments did he have this afternoon?  
  
It was a good fifteen minutes before the barman returned, a tray containing a teapot, two cups, and some biscuits floating evenly in front of him, and a large leather pouch tucked under one arm. Gone as well were his black robes of mourning, replaced by deep red ones which reminded Harry of a set Dumbledore himself had worn.  
  
"Al didn't like black," Aberforth said in a voice of forced cheerfulness. "Since I was to speak this morning, I gave way to convention, but I'll not stay in that color longer than I have to."  
  
Harry nodded as Aberforth set the tray and the leather pouch on a small garden table just off the path, but his curiosity would not allow him to remain silent for long.  
  
"What's that?" he asked, pointing at the pouch.  
  
"This is something Al left for you, lad," Aberforth answered gently. "Fawkes brought it to me the morning of the battle. I haven't looked at it, myself. It was clearly addressed to you, though I have some idea of what it's all about."  
  
Harry took the pouch off the table, trying not to seem too eager. Upon opening it, he found that it contained a large sheath of parchment. The top page was a letter written in Dumbledore's familiar spindly handwriting, addressed to Harry.  
  
"Go on and read it," Aberforth prompted.  
  
With a shaking hand, Harry pulled Dumbledore's letter from the pouch, his eyes smarting with unbidden tears even before he began to read.  
  
 _Dear Harry,  
  
Today, we have found ourselves at a crossroads. There is no doubt, if you are reading this letter, that I did not survive the battle with Tom Riddle, and your work, then, must necessarily go on without me.  
  
There must be a great many questions in your mind, Harry, and no doubt you are having trouble understanding the significance of the silver ring which undoubtedly weakened me when it must have seemed that my strength should have been at its height. As you peruse the contents of this packet, I believe you will find the answers you will need to continue on your quest, and I would encourage you to seek and find help from whatever sources may present themselves to you.  
  
I will speak no more of this at this time, however, but I hope you will allow an old man the latitude to give you some advice.  
  
_Here, the words blurred even more as Harry thought of the times in which he had not heeded the Headmaster's advice, and the fact that he would have given anything now to be speaking to him rather than reading his final words.  
  
 _Do not allow grief and anger to cloud your mind, Harry, for these will only give Voldemort more strength. Instead, remember what you have been taught, and dedicate your fight to those who are living rather than those who have passed. For it is the living, Harry, who now depend upon you to set the world back to rights.  
  
I once wished more than anything else that I could take the burden of the age from your young shoulders. How could I not, for I saw before me a person on whom life had placed an unfair burden, a person who had been robbed of the normal childhood which should have been his. I wanted so much to give you back what you had lost, but alas, it was beyond my abilities. I soon found, especially after the battle at the Department of Mysteries, that my place was not to lift this burden from you, but to give you the tools you would need to lift it from yourself.  
  
Over the course of this year and our work together, I have learned so much more about the person you have become than I ever knew before, and I write this in perfect confidence that you will fulfill your destiny, and that you will go on to live the life that you have always deserved to live, a life of happiness and normalcy, surrounded by a family of your own.  
  
Love, Harry, is your greatest power, your greatest weapon. I do not think you have yet come to understand the full potential of your abilities if you will not fear to use the love of your friends and yes, your family, as you continue your fight. You must have noticed in your efforts that your upbringing bore striking similarities to that of Tom Riddle, and no doubt this fact has caused you some concern, just as the Sorting Hat's words did at the beginning of your first year.  
  
I remind you now of what I told you so long ago: It is our choices, Harry, which define us, and your choices have been different than Tom's from the earliest beginnings of your life. A pureness of heart lies within you that I have not seen in many wizards throughout my long life, and this purity and the ability to love unconditionally have won you friends and a family who will fight with you to the very end. You must let them, Harry, for your powers will not be fully realized until you do.  
  
I leave you now in the hopes that you will take all that you have been given and use it in the final part of your quest. The war will strengthen and heighten now, but this is but the final burst of the storm before the end. It is not long in coming, Harry, and I would entreat you to return to your aunt and uncle one last time, to take what is left of the blood protection as you prepare yourself for what you must do next.  
  
Above all, Harry, love must conquer. Do not give in to the anger and grief which are, even now, threatening to consume you. Use your greatest power, and you will prevail.  
  
Fondly,  
  
Albus Percival Wulfric Bryan Dumbledore  
_  
Harry read through the letter twice before looking up at Aberforth, who was watching him intently. The old wizard's heart was gladdened when he saw, after the second reading, that the young man's eyes were now glistening not with tears, but with the determination that those close to Harry had come to admire and respect.  
  
"That's it, lad," he said. "It's time to fight, and it's time to win. Albus knew you had become ready, and unless I am much mistaken, you will find in these papers clues to your next destination."  
  
"That ring," Harry said slowly. "It was important somehow, wasn't it?"  
  
"Aye," Aberforth answered solemnly, "it was very important, and if my brother was right - which he almost always was, confound him - it is the key to everything." He stood up and dusted the crumbs from his robes. "I have to leave you now, Harry, but you can stay in the garden as long as you like."  
  
Harry nodded absently, still lost in thought, until Aberforth turned to give him one final remark. "You know where to find me. I am not the wizard my brother was, but I'll give you any help that I can."  
  
Remembering the Headmaster's advice to seek and find help from whatever sources presented themselves, Harry nodded again and said simply, "Thank you."  
  
Soon after Aberforth had gone inside to resume his role as the surly barman of the Hog's Head, Harry gathered the leather pouch close to him and apparated back to the gates of Hogwarts. As curious as he was about the further contents of the pouch, he was not yet ready to read them. For the moment, he only wanted to be with Ginny, Ron, Hermione and Moony, the four people dearest to his heart.  
  


* * *

  
The Hogwarts grounds seemed deserted. As he walked up the path to the school, Harry cut his eyes to the place where Professor Dumbledore's funeral had taken place. As he had expected, the grounds had already been cleared of chairs and the grave already filled and marked with the white marble tombstone Harry had seen behind the mound of fresh earth.  
  
 _That's it, then_ , Harry couldn't help thinking as he passed it. Now, somehow, it seemed final. Perhaps it had been Dumbledore's letter, or his talk with Aberforth, or the silence of the grounds, but for whatever reason, Harry felt that Dumbledore had finally gone to rest.  
  
"Harry!" exclaimed a familiar and unmistakably tear-stricken voice behind him.  
  
Harry turned to see Hagrid walking quickly towards him from his hut, his gait strangely unsteady, rather as though he had been drinking. Before Harry had time to figure out what to say, Hagrid wrapped him in a hug which threatened to break every bone in his body.  
  
"Hagrid!" Harry said, his voice muffled due to the fact that his face was now buried in Hagrid's shirt. "Hagrid, could you…I mean, would you please let go?" He knew that Hagrid was devastated and that the half-giant did not know his own strength.  
  
"Oh, yer right, of course, jest right," Hagrid muttered, pulling out a large polka-dot handkerchief and dabbing at his eyes after he had released Harry. "Bein' silly…it's just..." Hagrid broke into renewed sobbing, dropping his huge form on the ground with a thud that caused the ground to shake.  
  
"Hagrid," Harry began awkwardly. "It's going to be all right. You heard what Aberforth said. Professor Dumbledore wouldn't want to be remembered like this." As he said it, Harry realized that he believed it as well. After reading the letter he had been given, he knew more than ever that the Headmaster would not have wanted anyone to fall apart, to lose hope or faith.  
  
Hagrid blew his nose. "Yer right," he said again, his voice hoarse from too much mead and heavy emotion. "Great man, Dumbledore…great man…" Hagrid choked back another sob as he looked at Harry. The young wizard's face still held all the sadness that it had before, but it was composed, determined now.  
  
"Yer on yer own now, Harry," Hagrid said softly. "'Course, yeh can't ever really be alone, can yeh, what with th' whole wizardin' world behind yeh."  
  
Harry nodded, not sure what else to do or say.  
  
"I'll help yeh," Hagrid grunted, looking up at him with respect. "Dumble…Dumbledore was so proud. He always said to me, he did, that you were gettin' ready, that you would win in th' end. Yeh have to, Harry," he said clearly. "Ain't no other way, yeh jest…yeh have to. Let us help, Dumbledore asked…" His voice trailed off.  
  
"What did he ask, Hagrid?"  
  
"He asked us ter stick by yeh, that's all," Hagrid replied in a gruff voice. "He told us yeh would need us afore th' end, and we're all to stand behind yeh. An' we will. We always will."  
  
"Thank you," Harry said softly. "But Hagrid, I…" At this, Harry stopped. He had been going to say, "I don't know what to do," but all of a sudden, he knew that it wouldn't have been the truth. As Dumbledore had said, the time at which he would have to fight, have to end this, was becoming closer with each passing day, and Harry knew that the others had prepared him as far as it was in their ability to do so.  
  
"Yeh know what yeh need ter do," Hagrid said seriously. "Yeh've always known. Ain't nobody better to do it, neither."  
  
"I'll do my best," Harry replied, resolve once again sparking in his eyes even though he wasn't exactly sure what it was that he had always known.  
  
"That'll be enough," Hagrid said, wiping his eyes once again. "Aye, Harry, yer best will do the trick. Where're yeh goin' now?"  
  
"I'm taking the Knight Bus back to Surrey," Harry replied. "I'm going back to the Dursleys until I've…" He almost said, "Until I've read what Dumbledore left for me," but decided quickly that he wanted to keep that to himself until he knew what it was all about. For some reason, he had the feeling that the contents of the packet would need to be treated with the highest level of secrecy, perhaps even from the Order itself. He quickly added, "Until I've turned seventeen."  
  
Hagrid looked at Harry beadily, but didn't pursue the subject. "Ruddy Muggles" was his only comment as he patted Harry heavily on the shoulder after he had gotten up.  
  
"We'll be in touch," Hagrid called after Harry from the door to his hut. "Yeh won't be alone, Harry. Promise yeh that."  
  
Harry waved at Hagrid, a strange feeling of foreboding coming through the gesture. Saying goodbye to Hagrid now, after all that had happened, felt ominous to him somehow. He tried unsuccessfully to shake the feeling off as he entered the deserted castle and headed up the familiar marble staircase to Gryffindor Tower.  
  
The Fat Lady looked at him imperiously for a moment as he approached the entrance to the Common Room, but after he had said the password, she said with a hint of wonder in her voice, "You are to have full access to the castle now, Harry Potter. Orders have been given." Without another word, the portrait swung open on its hinges, and Harry climbed through the portrait hole, wondering exactly what the Fat Lady had meant.  
  
He was surrounded the moment he entered the room, hugging and being hugged by Mrs. Weasley, Hermione, and Fleur Delacour, who had come to the tower with Bill, and shaking hands with Mrs. Weasley, Ron, Bill, George, Percy and Charlie. Last of all, besides Ginny, came Remus Lupin, who smiled at him as he gave him their usual one-armed hug.  
  
"Aberforth is quite a character, isn't he?" Lupin asked, looking at him critically. He was apparently pleased by what he saw, for he did not ask Harry how he was. It was apparent that while Harry was obviously still grieving, he had not allowed it to consume him as he had the previous summer after Sirius had died.  
  
"I like him," Harry said definitely.  
  
"I knew you would," Lupin replied, leading Harry to a table laden down with trays of sandwiches and pitchers of cold pumpkin juice. Harry noticed that all of the people in the room who were not Hogwarts students had changed out of their black robes into their normal clothing, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and Lupin's in their usual states of shabbiness.  
  
Ginny came up to him, carrying a plate that she had filled with food for him, and she led him quietly to his favorite chair by the fire. As Harry settled down into the familiar seat, he suddenly looked around at the Common Room. The same foreboding that he had felt upon saying goodbye to Hagrid came over him again, and he suddenly wondered if he would even be back at Hogwarts the next year. Depending on what was in Dumbledore's packet, Harry realized that there was a possibility that he would not.  
  
"Are you all right, Harry?" she asked softly, gazing searchingly into his eyes. The other occupants of the room busied themselves with departure preparations, giving Harry and Ginny their last few minutes alone before it was time to leave. Even Moony turned his back on the couple, knowing he would have time with Harry on the Knight Bus, for he and Tonks were riding with him to be his guard.  
  
"I'm okay, Ginny," Harry replied, taking her hand and squeezing it. "Are you?"  
  
"I'm…" Ginny began, seeming almost ashamed of what she was about to say. "I'm scared, Harry. I know it's stupid, but I can't help it. I'm afraid for you. Hermione says everything's going to change now, and I guess it has to, and I know what you have to do. But I can't help being scared. All those things we talked about, all those things we want for our future...will they ever happen now?"  
  
Harry looked at her, his eyes strong and full of the intense love he had come to feel for her. "They will, Ginny," he replied firmly. "I've just got to do this first, that's all, then I'll come back for you."  
  
"What do you mean, come back for me?" Ginny asked sharply, her confusion betrayed in her voice.  
  
Harry wasn't sure why he had said that, and with one look in Ginny's face, he wished that he hadn't. "I'm not sure what I'm going to have to do next, Ginny." He lowered his voice. "Dumbledore left me something that he said would help me find my 'next destination,' Ginny. I don't know what he means, but it's time for me to end this. You know it is."  
  
Ginny nodded with difficulty. She knew that what Harry said was true, and she didn't argue with him for the moment. One thing she knew deep in her heart, however, was that Harry would not leave her behind. She simply wouldn't let that happen.  
  
"I love you," was all she said, and Harry didn't even glance around the room to see who was watching as he leaned forward and took her into his arms, kissing her softly. She sat in his lap, curled up against his chest, the folds of her black school robes disappearing into the folds of his.  
  
"I love you, too," Harry replied with feeling. "I always will, Ginny."  
  
"Don't talk like that, like you're leaving me! You're not leaving me, Harry!" she suddenly said with vigor.  
  
"I don't know what I'm going to do," Harry told her honestly. "But I'm not going anywhere besides to the Dursley's right now, and we've already said we'll see each other over the summer, haven't we? I know how to apparate now, even if I'm not supposed to, and the Order will help me. Moony promised they would."  
  
Ginny nodded, knowing that until Harry knew what he had to do next, this had to be enough. Without thinking, Harry kissed her again.  
  
"All right, you two," said Mr. Weasley in a tone of forced indifference. Something about the way those two acted when they were together reminded him strongly of himself and Mrs. Weasley, and he had the uncomfortable feeling that his little girl was not so young anymore. He sighed. None of them are children anymore, he thought sadly. "It's time to get your trunks from upstairs. We have to leave the castle in just a few minutes."  
  
 _Leave the castle…leave the castle…_ the words echoed in Harry's head as he gave Ginny one last, small kiss and headed upstairs to bring his things down from the dormitory. He never wanted to leave Hogwarts, but this time, it seemed to be even harder than it had been before. Hermione had never spoken truer words than she had in the hospital when she had said that everything was going to change.  
  
As Harry headed down the stairs with his trunk behind him and Hedwig's cage in his other hand, he wondered if Hogwarts would ever be 'home' for him again, if he would ever return in quite the same way.  
  


* * *

  
The group walked in silence down to the Entrance Hall, where Professor McGonagall was waiting to see them off. As they passed the entrance to the dungeons, Harry was sure he saw the black-robed figure of Severus Snape lurking a few steps down, watching them.  
  
With bitterness, Harry realized that Snape had not even attended the Headmaster's funeral, nor had he been seen fighting in Hyde Park with the Order. I bet he was one of the ones fighting in a mask, killing Muggles for the sport of it, Harry thought viciously, glaring at Snape's retreating back.  
  
"Potter," McGonagall said, snapping him out of his hateful reverie. He turned to look at her, wondering what she would say to him now.  
  
"Harry," she amended, her face softening as she looked at him, and upon further inspection, Harry could see how hard the last few days had been for her as well. She placed her hand on his cheek much as Mrs. Weasley was wont to do, and his eyes widened in surprise. He had received kind words from the Deputy…no, the Headmistress, before, but never had she shown him such an open sign of affection.  
  
"Professor," he responded, looking at her with astonished eyes, completely unsure as to what was happening.  
  
"Do be careful, won't you?" she whispered, no sign of any kind of severity or sternness in her voice or expression. "And remember, Hogwarts will always be your home, and you will always find help here. All you must do is ask."  
  
Harry started a bit as she withdrew her hand from his face, and he wondered if McGonagall knew what information he would find in Dumbledore's packet, knew that there was a possibility that he would not be returning to school. What she did next surprised him even more. Suddenly and gingerly, as though she was out of practice, she leaned forward and hugged him, patting his back before releasing him and stepping back, tears glistening in her eyes.  
  
Harry realized too late that his arms had remained at his sides and that he had not returned the gesture. He looked at her again and whispered, "I'll be careful, Professor, and I'll keep in touch." He tacked the last promise on almost as an afterthought, for initiating contact with Professor McGonagall for anything besides school business was not something he had ever before even considered.  
  
"Right, it's time we were off," Molly Weasley said, her tone betraying the fact that she was dreading their parting more than almost anyone else in the room. She could not bear the thought of leaving Harry at the mercy of those Muggles again, but this time, he had insisted upon going. She wondered what he was hiding, but she did not ask. Harry was different since Dumbledore's death, and though she did not admit it, even to herself, Molly had also felt the aura of his power when he had come back to the Common Room after his meeting with Aberforth Dumbledore.  
  
McGonagall nodded and turned quickly away from all of them, her steps as brisk as they ever had been as her heels clicked up the marble stairs back to her office.  
  
Harry and Ginny walked with Ron and Hermione down the walk to the school, where he would catch the Knight Bus with Lupin and Tonks. The Weasleys would be apparating back to the Burrow, Ginny going Side-Along with her father, and Hermione was going with them for fear that her presence would bring more danger to her parents than anything else.  
  
"Harry, what are you going to do?" Ron asked.  
  
"What did you talk about with Professor Dumbledore's brother?" Hermione added.  
  
"I don't know anything but that I'm going back to Surrey for now," Harry answered honestly. "You'll know when I do."  
  
"Just don't go off and so something mental," Ron said bluntly. "Promise you won't, Harry."  
  
"Ron!" Hermione reproached him. "Harry's not going to do anything rash, are you Harry?"  
  
Harry's only answer was, "I don't know what I'm going to do yet. I've got some things to sort through."  
  
"Just remember that we're with you, Harry," Hermione said as Lupin stuck his wand-hand out, signaling for the Knight Bus. As it arrived with a bang, Ginny lunged forward and threw her arms around him.  
  
"We're with you," Ron echoed, clapping him on the back.  
  
"Always," Ginny whispered in his ear, her face strong and devoid of tears. Now that the time had actually come for Harry to leave, she would do nothing but lend him what strength she had. The last thing he needed was a sobbing girl on his hands, and Ginny knew that.  
  
"Harry, dear, please don't forget to write to us as often as you can," Mrs. Weasley said, her chin trembling just the slightest bit as she gave him a hug. "We'll have you out of there the moment you say the word."  
  
"Thanks, Mrs. Weasley," Harry said. "I'll keep in touch, I promise."  
  
With various other farewell calls, Harry dragged his trunk onto the bus, where it was taken by the now-familiar conductor, Stan Shunpike, who was staring at the assembled group with awe written all over his features.  
  
"Blimey, Ern," he said as Lupin and Tonks followed Harry onto the bus. "They was all there at the park, they was! They was there when Albus Dumbledore was -"  
  
"That will be enough," Lupin said quietly, staring straight into the young man's pimply face. "We wish to be left quite alone."  
  
Stan turned red and hurriedly stowed their trunks, muttering under his breath as they found three squishy armchairs on the second level. The only other thing they heard from the conductor was his inquiry as to their destination and his request for payment. The bus was empty but for them, as most wizards were afraid to go too far from home, and Harry knew he didn't have long as they rocketed away from Hogwarts, not even giving him a chance to look back at the castle.  
  
Harry noticed that Lupin and Tonks were sitting rather close together, and he could not help but smile a little. "So, you two are together, then?" he asked conversationally, enjoying the surprised look that passed between his guards.  
  
"We, well…" Lupin answered, his face reddening a bit until Harry was reminded forcibly of Ron's responses to any questions regarding romance.  
  
"Of course we are, you dolt!" Tonks said, punching him in the arm.  
  
"That's great," Harry said sincerely, "really great."  
  
"Listen, Harry," Lupin suddenly said intently, leaning forward and swaying slightly as the bus began racing down the streets of Surrey with a bang, "We'll be in close contact this summer, but you must be on your guard, always. We don't know how the blood protection will work once you've turned seventeen, if the wards will automatically come down. You've got to keep a watch on yourself, and on your family."  
  
Harry nodded, grimacing only slightly at Lupin's reference to the Dursleys as his family. "I will be, Moony, and I'll talk to you as soon as I figure out what comes next."  
  
"Do that, Harry," Lupin said, carefully refraining from asking Harry about his meeting with Aberforth. He knew that there was something very significant about what had happened with Dumbledore and the silver ring in Hyde Park, and if his suspicions proved correct, Harry had a long road ahead of him.  
  
The Knight Bus squealed to a stop in front of the familiar play park at the end of Privet Drive, the very place in which Harry had first seen it in the summer before his third year. There were several Muggle children playing in the park, but no one seemed to take any notice of the obnoxiously purple triple-decker bus that had just narrowly missed running all of them over.  
  
"Muggles," Stan said contemptuously as he unloaded Harry's things onto the sidewalk on the opposite side of the bus. "They don't notice nuffink, do they?"  
  
Harry had a strong feeling that the bus was either invisible or disillusioned, and that as long as it remained there, anyone near it was hidden, because Moony, Tonks and Stan Shunpike moved around with nonchalant ease, not bothering with cloaks or even whispers. Before the bus rocketed off, however, Lupin shrunk Harry's trunk and hid it, himself and Tonks under Moody's spare invisibility cloak.  
  
When the bus disappeared, Harry seemed to be standing alone on the corner. A few of the Muggles in the park wondered briefly where he had come from, but no one said anything to him…after all, he was just that strange Potter boy who had to go to a school for criminals. It was best simply to pretend they didn't see him.  
  
Harry walked toward Number Four, Privet Drive, feeling rather than seeing or hearing the presence of Lupin and Tonks as they walked behind them. When they reached the Dursleys' front garden, Lupin looked carefully around before removing the invisibility cloak and charming Harry's trunk and Hedwig's cage back to their usual sizes.  
  
"This is where we leave you, Harry, but we're only a call away," Lupin said, clapping Harry on the shoulder.  
  
"If you have any problems with those people," Tonks said darkly, remembering all too well the events of the previous summer, "you're to call us straightaway, you hear?"  
  
Harry nodded. "Bye, you two," he said, turning away from them and walking alone up the front walk, dragging his trunk behind him. He heard two soft 'pops' as they disapparated, and, taking a deep breath, Harry rang the bell.  
  
 _And so it begins_ , he thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and I hope you have enjoyed the fic! Please join me in the seventh-year sequel to this fic, Pieces of a Soul, which will be posted within the next couple of days!


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